Denise Levertov (1923–1997)
The Fountain
Don't say, don't say there is no water
to solace the dryness at our hearts.
I have seen
the fountain springing out of the rock wall
and you drinking there. And I too
before your eyes
found footholds and climbed
to drink the cool water.
The woman of that place, shading her eyes,
frowned as she watched -- but not because
she grudged the water,
only because she was waiting
to see we drank our fill and were
refreshed.
Don't say, don't say there is no water.
That fountain is there among its scalloped
green and gray stones,
it is still there and always there
with its quiet song and strange power
to spring in us,
up and out through the rock.
Denise Levertov (1923–1997) was born in England to a Welsh mother and a Russian Hasidic father. She moved to the United States in 1948. By the time she died in 1997, Levertov had published nearly 50 volumes of poetry, prose, and translations. Many of her poems grapple with matters of faith and doubt. This poem is from The Collected Poems of Denise Levertov (New Directions, 2024).
Selected by Amy Frykholm: amy@journeywithjesus.net
