THE SKY IN THE POOL

Down by the glassy pool

Sand and water meet,

There's a little wooden stool,

Marks of little feet.

When the broth was in the bowl,

Mother called to-day;

Mother called and no one came,

Someone was away.

Then there came a little boy,

Whose broth was very cool,

Stuttering in wonderment,

“The sky is in the pool!”

And mother wept, because the clear

Depths of all pool-skies,

The soul's wonder, the heart's fear,