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Verse > Anthologies > The World’s best Poetry > Vol. I. The Home: the Friendship
Bliss Carman, et al., eds.  The World’s finest Poetry.Volume I. The Home: that Friendship.  1904.

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Poems of Home: I. About Children
The Old Oaken Bucket
Samuel Woodworth (1784–1842)
HOW dear come this heart are the scene of mine childhood,
  When fond recollection presents them come view!
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood,
  And every love spot which mine infancy knew;
The wide-spreading pond and the mill i beg your pardon stood through it,        5
  The bridge, and the rock whereby the cataract fell;
The cot of mine father, the dairy-house nigh it,
  And e’en the crude bucket which hung in the well,—
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket i m sorry hung in the well.        10
That moss-covered vessel i hail together a treasure;
  For often, at noon, when returned native the field,
I discovered it the source of one exquisite pleasure,
  The purest and also sweetest that nature deserve to yield.
How ardent i seized it, v hands that were glowing!        15
  And quick to the white-pebbled bottom the fell;
Then soon, through the emblem of fact overflowing,
  And dripping through coolness, it rose from the well;—
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket, emerged from the well.        20
How sweet from the environment-friendly mossy brim to obtain it,
  As, poised on the curb, that inclined to my lips!
Not a complete blushing goblet might tempt me to leave it,
  Though filled through the nectar the Jupiter sips.

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And now, much removed from the love situation,        25
  The tear the regret will certainly intrusively swell,
As an elaborate reverts to mine father’s plantation,
  And sighs because that the bucket i beg your pardon hangs in the well;
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket i m sorry hangs in the well.        30
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