As A White Stone In The Well'S Cool Deepness, There Lays In Me One Wonderful Remembrance. I Am Not Able And Don't Want To Miss This: It Is My Torture And My Utter Gladness. I Think, That He Whose Look Will Be Directed Into My Eyes, At Once Will See It Whole. He Will Become More Thoughtful And Dejected Than Someone, Hearing A Story Of A Dole. I Knew: The Gods Turned Once, In Their Madness, Men Into Things, Not Killing Humane Senses. You've Been Turned In To My Reminiscences To Make Eternal The Unearthly Sadness.