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James Russell Lowell - Ode Written For The Celebration Of The Cochituate Water Into The City Of Boston
Work rating: Low

My name is Water: I have sped
  Through strange, dark ways, untried before,
By pure desire of friendship led,
  Cochituate`s ambassador;
He sends four royal gifts by me:
Long life, health, peace, and purity.

I`m Ceres` cup-bearer; I pour,
  For flowers and fruits and all their kin,
Her crystal vintage, from of yore
  Stored in old Earth`s selectest bin,
Flora`s Falernian ripe, since God
The wine-press of the deluge trod.

In that far isle whence, iron-willed,
  The New World`s sires their bark unmoored,
The fairies` acorn-cups I filled
  Upon the toadstool`s silver board,
And, `neath Herne`s oak, for Shakespeare`s sight,
Strewed moss and grass with diamonds bright.

No fairies in the Mayflower came,
  And, lightsome as I sparkle here,
For Mother Bay State, busy dame,
  I`ve toiled and drudged this many a year,
Throbbed in her engines` iron veins,
Twirled myriad spindles for her gains.

I, too, can weave: the warp I set
  Through which the sun his shuttle throws,
And, bright as Noah saw it, yet
  For you the arching rainbow glows,
A sight in Paradise denied
To unfallen Adam and his bride.

When Winter held me in his grip,
  You seized and sent me o`er the wave,
Ungrateful! in a prison-ship;
  But I forgive, not long a slave,
For, soon as summer south-winds blew,
Homeward I fled, disguised as dew.

For countless services I`m fit,
  Of use, of pleasure, and of gain,
But lightly from all bonds I flit,
  Nor lose my mirth, nor feel a stain;
From mill and wash-tub I escape,
And take in heaven my proper shape.

So, free myself, to-day, elate
  I come from far o`er hill and mead,
And here, Cochituate`s envoy, wait
  To be your blithesome Ganymede,
And brim your cups with nectar true
That never will make slaves of you.
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