Classic Poem

The traveller on his torrid way
Will quench his thirst at any spring
Whose cooling waters chance to stray
Beside his road of wandering.

Then on upon his way he goes
Without another thought or glance
Upon the fountain that bestows
Its all of joy and sustenance.

And so 'tis with the ingrate's heart;
Who once he can his need obtain
Will on his journey lightly start
And never turn his cheek again.