This is a poem I wrote in high school.
Not All the Pow’r This World Could Spell.
How sweet is that which flows so clear:
The Spring that all desire in time,
To keep the life that men hold dear,
To love the world at its sublime?
Or once departed by old age,
Mayhap ‘tis water he still yearns,
But Death brings locks to shield his cage,
That hopeless ones might feel their burns.
Not all the pow’r this world could spell,
Would still the mouths that say farewell.