Poems about Water

Welcome to our pool of Poems about Water for your refreshment and your thirst.
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Poems about Water

H2O is a famous droplet
That we can't live without;
We're full of it already but need lots more
Of that there is no doubt.

The thin line between our thirst
And that of dehydration;
Is nothing more than a couple of points
On the PH level and filtration.

It is alongside oxygen the
most valuable commodity.
It's already being charged for
When God sends it to us free.

We must look after it
For our childrens sake;
And remember rightly
That it's not ours to take.


The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

Poems about Water

The Water Fall

With what deep murmers through time's silent stealth
Doth thy transparent, cool, and wat'ry wealth;
Here flowing fall
And chide, and call,
As if his liquid, loose retinue stay'd
Ling'ring, and were of this steep place afraid;
The common pass
Where, clear as glass,
All must descend
Not to an end,
But quicken'd by this deep and rocky grave,
Rise to a longer course more bright and brave.
Dear stream! dear bank, where often I
Have sat and pleas'd my pensive eye,
Why, since each drop of thy quick store
Runs thither whence it flow'd before.
Should poor souls fear a shade or night
Who came, sure, from a sea of light?
Or since those drops are all sent back
So sure to thee, that none doth lack,
Why should frail flesh doubt any more
That what God takes, he'll not restore.
O useful element and clear!
My sacred wash and cleanser here,
My first consigner unto those
Fountains of Life where the lamb goes!
What sublime truths and wholesome themes
Lodge in thy mystical deep streams!
Such as a dull man can never find
Unless that Spirit lead his mind
Which first upon thy face did move
And hatch'd all with his quick'ning love.
As this loud brook's incessant fall
In streaming rings restagnates all,
Which reach by course the bank and then
Are no more seen, just so pass men.
O my invisible estate,
My glorious liberty, still late!
Thou art the channel my souls seeks
Not this with cataracts and creeks.
Henry Vaughan

Poems about Water

Our drop souls are of the ocean of Truth,
Their bubbles are bright snares;
These keep us in the sea of illusion
Playing musical chairs.

Dear Souls, says one bubble to another
You are all I adore;
Curl me up in your arms
And I'll ask heaven of nothing more.

Good Luck, brother! But it won't take
You to where you're going because;
The fly in that ointment is, every
"It is" becomes an"It was"

Distance ever grows longer
It never becomes shorter;
The mirage stretches on and on
But it never becomes water.

The distance between any two pebbles
Equals the circumference of space;
No matter how great our love;
Union is conditioned by time and place.

Come dearest droplet let us
Together seek the Beloved's door;
Let us leave this wave which will separate us
And come up upon the shore.

I hear his beautiful voice
Calling deep in my soul;
The lover is nothing
The beloved is all in all!
Francis Brabazon

Poems about Water

The Water! the Water!
The joyous brook for me,
That tuneth through the quiet night,
Its ever-living glee.
The Water! the Water!
That sleepless merry heart,
Which gurgles on unstintedly,
And loveth to impart
To all around it some small measure
Of its own most perfect pleasure.

The Water! the Water!
The gentle stream for me,
That gushes from the old gray stone,
Beside the alder tree.
The Water! the Water!
That ever-bubbling spring
I loved and looked on while a child,
In deepest wondering, —
And asked it whence it came and went,
And when its treasures would be spent.

The Water! the Water!
The merry, wanton brook,
That bent itself to pleasure me,
Like mine old shepherd crook.
The Water! the Water!
That sang so sweet at noon,
And sweeter still all night, to win
Smiles from the pale proud moon,
And from the little fairy faces
That gleam in heaven’s remotest places.

The Water! the Water!
The dear and blessed thing,
That all day fed the little flowers
On its banks blossoming.
The Water! the Water!
That murmured in my ear,
Hymns of a saint-like purity,
That angels well might hear;
And whisper in the gates of heaven,
How meek a pilgrim had been shriven.

The Water! the Water!
Where I have shed salt tears,
In loneliness and friendliness,
A thing of tender years.
The Water! the Water!
Where I have happy been,
And showered upon its bosom flowers
Culled from each meadow green,
And idly hoped my life would be
So crowned by love’s idolatry.

The Water! the Water!
My heart yet burns to think
How cool thy fountain sparkled forth,
For parched lip to drink.
The Water! the Water!
Of mine own native glen;
The gladsome tongue I oft have heard,
But ne’er shall hear again;
Though fancy fills my ear for aye
With sounds that live so far away!

The Water! the Water!
The mild and glassy wave,
Upon whose broomy banks I’ve longed
To find my silent grave.
The Water! the Water!
O blessed to me them art;
Thus sounding in life’s solitude,
The music of my heart,
And filling it, despite of sadness,
With dreamings of departed gladness.

The Water! the Water!
The mournful pensive tone,
That whispered to my heart how soon
This weary life was done.
The Water! the Water!
That rolled so bright and free,
And bade me mark how beautiful
Was its soul’s purity;
And how it glanced to heaven its wave,
As wandering on it sought its grave.
William Motherwell


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Poems about Water