|
|
|
For Once, Then, Something by Robert Frost |
| |
|
Others taught
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
Me 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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
