Right in the village there\’s a little well and the grass hides it, grenn grass in sap closely thatching it I heard of it from an old woman but she siad:“The path is overgrown with bracken where Ioften walked with my cogin, and the cogin itself is warped.“ when I looked in her lined face I saw the bracken growing round the well of her eyes, and hiding it from seeking and from desires, and closing it,closing it. “Nobody goes to that well now,“ said the old woman,“as we once went, when we were young, though its water is lovely and white.“ And when I looked in her eyes through the bracken I saw the sparkle of that water That makes whole every hurt till the hurt of herat. “And will you go there for me,“ said the old woman,“even with a thimble, and bring me a drop of that hard water that will bring colour to my cheeks.“ I found the well at last, and through her need was not the greatset It was to her i brought the treasure It may be that the well is something I saw in a dream for today when I went to seek it I found only bracken and rushes, and the old woman\’s eyes are closed and a film has come over their merriment