And shall the living waters heed <br />our vain desire, insensate Art! <br />and fill the common dust I knead <br />upgather'd from the trodden mart? <br />As well might they forsake their clime <br />of virgin green and blue, to creep <br />in cities where our tears are slime, <br />where our unquicken'd bodies sleep. <br />— But thou, O soul, hast stood for sure <br />in the far paradisal bower, <br />there where our passion sparkles pure <br />beneath the eternal morning hour. <br />and oft, in twilights listening, <br />my sleeping memories are stirr'd <br />by lavings of the unstaunched spring <br />upwelling in a sudden word. <br />Why shouldst thou come to squander here <br />the treasure of those deeps on me? <br />nay, where our fount is free and clear <br />stay there, and let me come to thee!<br /><br />Christopher John Brennan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-shall-the-living-waters-heed/
