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