Others Taunt Me With Having Knelt At Well-Curbs Always Wrong To The Light, So Never Seeing Deeper Down In The Well Than Where The Water Gives Me Back In A Shining Surface Picture My Myself In The Summer Heaven, Godlike Looking Out Of A Wreath Of Fern And Cloud Puffs. Once, When Trying With Chin Against A Well-Curb, I Discerned, As I Thought, Beyond The Picture, Through The Picture, A Something White, Uncertain, Something More Of The Depths, And Then I Lost It. Water Came To Rebuke The Too Clear Water. One Drop Fell From A Fern, And Lo, A Ripple Shook Whatever It Was Lay There At Bottom, Blurred It, Blotted It Out. What Was That Whiteness? Truth? A Pebble Of Quartz? For Once, Then, Something.