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The Many Wells

Many are the songs yet to be sung


And many the wells yet to be dug



One called Triumph resounds with joy


Ascending verses of bright employ


One called Sorrow with trenches deep


Dredges fear, what flow it weeps!



One named Plenty makes complacent the mind


While its brother Famine gives strength to strive


With will to choose the well caved in


Take courage enough to begin again



Dig the well, though it may run dry


Dig the well, amid waters high


Dig the well, to ascend your hope


Dig the well, in descension’s mote



With hand to trowel and feet to earth


Regret not your working’s worth


Shovel to ground and strength to bear


Speak into the wells and greatly dare



And despite all failure's despondency


Make clear the way to a well called free




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