Others taunt me with having knelt at well-curbs <br />Always wrong to the light, so never seeing <br />Deeper down in the well than where the water <br />Gives me back in a shining surface picture <br />My myself in the summer heaven, godlike <br />Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs. <br />Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb, <br />I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture, <br />Through the picture, a something white, uncertain, <br />Something more of the depths—and then I lost it. <br />Water came to rebuke the too clear water. <br />One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple <br />Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom, <br />Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness? <br />Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.<br /><br />Robert Lee Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-once-then-something-3/
