A Well. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 What mystery pervades a well!
    The water lives so far,
    Like neighbor from another world
    Residing in a jar.

    The grass does not appear afraid;
    I often wonder he
    Can stand so close and look so bold
    At what is dread to me.

    Related somehow they may be, —
    The sedge stands next the sea,
    Where he is floorless, yet of fear
    No evidence gives he.

    But nature is a stranger yet;
    The ones that cite her most
    Have never passed her haunted house,
    Nor simplified her ghost.

    To pity those that know her not
    Is helped by the regret
    That those who know her, know her less
    The nearer her they get.