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.