The Old Oaken Bucket

By: Samuel Woodworth

How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,

When fond recollection presents them to view!

The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood,

And every loved spot which my infancy knew;

The wide-spreading pond, and the mill which stood by it,

The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell;

The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,

And e’en the rude bucket which hung in the well —

The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,

The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well.

That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure;

For often, at noon, when returned from the field,

I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,

The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.

How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing!

How quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell;

Then soon, with the emblem of truth over-flowing,

And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well —

The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,

The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.

How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,

As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips!

Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,

Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips.

And now, far removed from the loved situation,

The tear of regret will intrusively swell,

As fancy reverts to my father’s plantation,

And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well —

The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,

The moss-covered bucket which hangs in the well.

My grandpa had a well in his garden and I can still taste that cool water from the bucket. One day working on the farm, I felt like I was dying of thirst. It had to have been over 100 degrees outside and I just wanted some water. We stopped the tractor at the well, dropped the bucket and I was refreshed by the cool crisp water. My Dad, looked down in the water and asked if I had already drunk it. Indeed I had, why? Because there is a dead rat floating in the top.

Ah, the good ole' days. If your thoughts reading this poem was "no wonder the life expectancy was so short, with all the disease and germs in the water", this poem HERE will be more your taste.