Is there a way of water unextolled? I have trailed burdened rivers from their birth In a dark pool, and I have felt the worth Of quick oases, by red stars patrolled. The freshening way of slow rain has been told Since the first twisted fruit tree hurt the earth; And torrid oceans, infinite of girth, Forever strive with interstellar cold. He who would tell a new tale in his days, Must set his compass arrogant of ships; He must go down by unfrequented ways -- By sunken roads, where sunlight never slips. Songs he must know a very god might raise. Of a cool cup lifted to self-damned lips! |