The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. — Samuel Woodworth Copy Share Image
Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well. — Samuel Woodworth Copy Share Image
How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection recalls them to view; The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled… — Samuel Woodworth Copy Share Image
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view. — Samuel Woodworth Copy Share Image
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. — Samuel Woodworth Copy Share Image
