Roman Fountain

Up from the bronze, I saw

Water without a flaw

Rush to its rest in air,

Reach to its rest, and fall.

Bronze of the blackest shade,

An element man-made,

Shaping upright the bare

Clear gouts of water in air.

O, as with arm and hammer,

Still it is good to strive

To beat out the image whole,

To echo the shout and stammer

When full-gushed waters, alive,

Strike on the fountain's bowl

After the air of summer.