How fragile urban steel and stone
The fabrics that shore up city and clan
If water, essence of all wealth, dry up:
If these reservoirs of liquid
Turn to moisture and air
Or be spilled to soak into earthen soil—
Where then our civic strength and pride?
But O! what greater loss if soul
Be of supernal Sea deprived,
If heaven’s clouds pass by
Without drop or shower—
O! for thunder and the light,
The storm and those drenching rains
Pantycelyn and Griffiths knew,
And that kept them thirsting for more.
Michael A.G. Haykin©2008.