"And he must needs go through Samaria. . . .
Now Jacob's well was there." A woman came
To fill her empty pot with deep-drawn draughts
Of water clear. The Nazarene sat there.
He was alone. His friends had gone to buy
Food while he rested on the ancient well.
What were his thoughts? Of Jacob's lonely flight,
Of his return and wrestling in the dawn,
Of inspiration gained by Jabbok ford
That changed to Israel his name and nature?
We know not. But the angels came and went
On that hot noonday by the well, as they
With light had come and gone in Jacob's dream.
With inspiration Jesus' thought was fed.
So to the woman of Samaria,
"Give me to drink from Jacob's well," he said.
The woman stared. How could a Jew ask drink
From one of such despised name and race?
But Jesus knew her thirst for Life and Love
Which she in shame had vainly tried to slake.
"Ask me for drink, for living water clear,
That you may never thirst, but have within
A fount of everlasting life," he said.
