White of clouds in day-blue sky
O’er-traced with criss-crossed, branching lace,
Set wav’ring on the water’s streaming rush
To yet another place –

Sand and rocks all browned with moss
And tiny pebbles littered ‘round,
Sealed in by mirk-fogged liquid that
Slips ever past without a sound –

Oh, which to see?  Could the world within
This wet, thin-layered atmosphere
Negate the glimmer-hinted realm
That far beyond its depths appears?