How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view. * * * * * * The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
Samuel Woodworth, The Old Oaken Bucket.
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, The brightest that beauty or revelry sips.Samuel Woodworth