 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
THE MARBLE POOL
The marble pool, like the great sea, hath moods—
Fierce angers, slumbers, deep beatitudes.
Fierce angers, slumbers, deep beatitudes.
In sudden gusts the pool, in lengthened waves,—
As in a mimic tempest,—tosses and raves.
As in a mimic tempest,—tosses and raves.
In the still, drowsy, dreaming midday hours
It sleeps and dreams among the dreaming flowers.
It sleeps and dreams among the dreaming flowers.
'Neath troubled skies the surface of its sleep
Is fretted; how the big drops rush and leap!
Is fretted; how the big drops rush and leap!
Now 't is a mirror where the sky of night
Sees its mysterious face of starry light;
Sees its mysterious face of starry light;
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Or where the tragic sunset is reborn,
Or the sweet, virginal mystery of morn.
Or the sweet, virginal mystery of morn.
One little pool holds ocean, brink to brink;
One little heart can hold the world, I think.
One little heart can hold the world, I think.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |