The Broken Fountain

Oblong, its jutted ends rounding into circles,

The old sunken basin lies with its flat, marble lip

An inch below the terrace tiles.

Over the stagnant water

Slide reflections:

The blue-green of coned yews;

The purple and red of trailing fuchsias

Dripping out of marble urns;

Bright squares of sky

Ribbed by the wake of a swimming beetle.

Through the blue-bronze water

Wavers the pale uncertainty of a shadow.

An arm flashes through the reflections,

A breast is outlined with leaves.

Outstretched in the quiet water

The statue of a Goddess slumbers.

But when Autumn comes

The beech leaves cover her with a golden counter-pane.