Fly You Must

Some poet long ago has likened life Unto a saddened soul forever ?Dipping buckets into empty wells And growing old with drawing nothing up.? Let not such deadening creed be mine But rather may I prove that life itself A crystal fountain is, forever Yielding up its waters sweet, In draughts so deep our human Hearts too shallow seem to plumb Its depths; yet even with our narrow cup We lift a sparkling tide unto Our thirsty lips?and drinking Thus, are satisfied