From the Well He Wish He Took

He wanted a babbling brook,
  And I was a deep dark well;
His restless and wayward look
  On glistening rapids fell.

He followed the stream along,
  Nor could he resist its call;
He forgot that there was a well,
  Unruffled and deep at all.

His spirits were high and gay,
  The voice of the brook was sweet;
He was never aware of the miles
  So light were his straying feet.

Till after the sun was high,
  And he wanted a cooling drink,
When the brook didn't satisfy
  Of the deep well he began to think.