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Water, is taught by thirst. by Emily Dickinson

Water, is taught by thirst.

Land -- by the Oceans passed.
Transport -- by throe -Peace -- by its battles told -Love, by Memorial Mold -Birds, by the Snow.

The Meeting of the Waters by Thomas Moore

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There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet

As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill,
Oh! no, -- it was something more exquisite still.
'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear,
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve,
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease,
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.

Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

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Ripples on the Water by Raymond A. Foss

A rock thrown in the pond,

full force, or maybe, just maybe,
thousands of pebbles, hurled, dropped,
even gently coaxed into the water
ripples, reverberating, echoing,
growing into a groundswell
a tsunami, if even have force
to change the face of the planet
to change the discussion
at least for a day
onto on topic
where we live
the place
we call
home

Hayeswater by Matthew Arnold

A region desolate and wild.
Black, chafing water: and afloat,
And lonely as a truant child,
In a waste wood, a single boat:
No mast, no sails are set thereon;
It moves, but never moveth on:

And welters like a human thing

Amid the wild waves weltering.
Behind, a buried vale doth sleep,
Far down the torrent cleaves its way:
In front the dumb rock rises steep,
A fretted wall of blue and grey;
Of shooting cliff and crumbled stone
With many a wild weed overgrown:
All else, black water: and afloat,
One rood from shore, that single boat.

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Reflections On The Water by Glenn McGahan
This man in the water is looking right at me
This man in the water a reflection of where I used to be
This man in the water no friends or family
This man in the water all he has is me
This man in the water cries but makes no sound
This man in the water condemned and bound
This man in the water will surely drown
This man in the water is gasping for air
This man in the water is my despair
This man in the water takes his final breath
This man in the water floats in his death.
Like The Water by Wendell Berry
Like the water
of a deep stream,
love is always too much.
We did not make it.
Though we drink till we burst,
we cannot have it all,
or want it all.
In its abundance
it survives our thirst.
In the evening we come down to the shore
to drink our fill,
and sleep,
while it flows
through the regions of the dark.
It does not hold us,
except we keep returning to its rich waters
thirsty.
We enter,
willing to die,
into the commonwealth of its joy.

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1) : www.google.com, www.youtube.com,
www.wikipedia.com, http://yakynthy.blogspot.com.
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