Explore "Truth, not Form!" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I came upon a fountain on my way / When it was hot, and sat me down to drink / Its sparkling stream, when all around the brink / I spied full many vessels made of clay, / Whereon were written, not without display, / In deep engraving or with merely ink, / The blessings which each owner seemed to think / Would light on him who drank with each alway.
I looked so hard my eyes were looking double / Into them all, but when I came to see / That they were filthy, each in his degree, / I bent my head, though not without some trouble, / To where the little waves did leap and bubble, / And so I journeyed on most pleasantly.