THE MARBLE POOL
The marble pool, like the great sea, hath moods—
Fierce angers, slumbers, deep beatitudes.
In sudden gusts the pool, in lengthened waves,—
As in a mimic tempest,—tosses and raves.
In the still, drowsy, dreaming midday hours
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!
Now 't is a mirror where the sky of night
Sees its mysterious face of starry light;
Or where the tragic sunset is reborn,
Or the sweet, virginal mystery of morn.
One little pool holds ocean, brink to brink;
One little heart can hold the world, I think.
