Author John Gould Fletcher The well is not used now,Its waters are tainted.I remember there was once a man went downTo clean it.He found it very cold and deep,With a queer niche in one of its sides,From which he hauled forth buckets of bricks and dirt. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments