 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
75
The Heart
There is a cup of sweet or bitter drink,Whose waters ever o'er the brim must well,
Whence flow pure thoughts of love as angels think,
Or of its daemon depths the tongue will tell;
That cup can ne'er be cleansed from outward stains
While from within the tide forever flows;
And soon it wearies out the fruitless pains
The treacherous hand on such a task bestows;
But ever bright its crystal sides appear,
While runs the current from its outlet pure;
And pilgrims hail its sparkling waters near,
And stoop to drink the healing fountain sure,
And bless the cup that cheers their fainting soul
While through this parching waste they seek their heavenly goal.
Poem No. 612; mid-September to mid-December 1838
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |