By this low rock pool, dark and sweet,
Where panting Summer cools her feet,
No creature stirs, except the leaves
That sometimes glide along the air
Like children down a shallow stair,
And nothing strives or grieves.
The lone ferns drip from every frond.
Green, round and polished lies the pond,
A mirror for the stooping moon.
Above, the fall is straight and white,
A comet in a sultry night,
Among the leaves of June.
All spell-bound in the drowsy gloom,
Grey-leaved, white-flowered, the mulleins bloom;
And if a swallow suddenly
Should cut the pool with one sharp wing,
Or if a thrush come here to sing,
It seems a prodigy.
A lone green valley, good for sheep,
Where still the ancient fairies keep
Their right of way and copyhold
All night with mullein torches. Far
Within the stream, a dreaming star
Has laid a spell of gold.
(Mary Webb)
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Based on Topics: Night Poems, Sadness Poems, Gold Poems, Astronomy & Cosmology Poems, Dreaming PoemsBased on Keywords: frond, mullein, prodigy, white-flowered, mulleins, copyhold, grey-leaved