I sent the girl to the well.
She walked up the main road as far as Tell’s Cross,
Turned left over the stile and up the hill path.
I stood at the door to watch her coming down,
Her eyes fixed on the level of the water
Cushioned in her palms, wavering
Like the circles of grain in wood.
She stepped neatly down on the road;
The lads on bicycles cheered as they passed her
And her fingers shook and nearly leaked and lost it.
She took her time for the last fifty yards
Bringing it to the threshold and there I drank.
I said to the other sisters, each of you
Will have to do the same when your day comes.
This one has finished her turn,
She can go home with her wages;
She would hardly make it as far
As the well at the world’s end.