A river ran through a golden wood
That lay bathed in the peaceful fall of eventide
And two streams sprung from it as I stood
And watched them meandering into the light

I found a place to quench my thirst
And kneeled down on the banks of the first stream
But the water reflected my sight, and I reversed
For it showed a shape that I had  never seen

Long had this vision dried out the soul in me
And obstructed me to drink and water it even so
But how solid is a concrete thing that leans upon a fantasy
When thereby hangs the entire world you know

I ran towards the second brook, drawn by sheer objection
Where I knelt down and drank most eagerly
Yet the water was troubled, and without reflection
Thus with the troubled water, the image dissolved within me

My thirst was quenched, and bid the image to escape
It was in these golden woods that I had learned to see
T'is often the beauty unacquainted with its shape
That shapes the most fair and solid imagery