We never see the stars, still we can see naught but them. So with Truth.
Night brings out stars, as sorrows show us truths,
Though many, yet they help not; bright, they light not:
They are too late to serve us; and sad things,
Are aye too true. — We never see the stars,
Still we can see naught but them. So with Truth.
And yet if one would look down a deep well,
Even at noon, we might see these same stars,
Far fairer than the blinding blue: the Truth
Shines in the water like a dark bright eye.
But there are other eyes men better love
Than Truth’s; for when we have her she’s so cold
And proud, we know not what to do with her.