_The Summer Pool_

This is a wonder-cup in Summer’s hand. Sombre, impenetrable, round its rim The fir-trees bend and brood. The noons o’erbrim The windless hollow of its iris’d strand With mote-thick sun and water-breathings bland. Under a veil of lilies lurk and swim Strange shapes of presage in a twilight dim, Unwitting heirs of light and life’s command.

Blind in their bondage, of no change they dream, But the trees watch in grave expectancy The spell fulfils,--and swarms of radiant flame, Live jewels, above the crystal dart and gleam, Nor guess the sheen beneath their wings to be The dark and narrow regions whence they came.