Classic Poem

He gathered for His own delight
— — The sparkling waters of my soul.
A thousand creatures, bubbling bright —
— — He set me in a golden bowl.

From the deep cisterns of the earth
— — He bade me up — the shining daughter —
And I am exquisite with mirth,
— — A brightening and a sunlit water.

The wild, the free, the radiant one,
— — A happy bubble I did glide.
I poised my sweetness to the sun
— — And there I sleeked my silver side.

Sometimes I lifted up my head
— — And globed the moonlight with my hands,
Or thin as flying wings I spread
— — Angelic wildness through the sands.

Then, woven into webs of light,
— — I breathed, I sighed, I laughed aloud,
And lifting up my pinions bright
— — I shone in Heaven, a bird-white cloud.

Then did I dance above the mead,
— — And through the crystal fields would run,
And from my scarlet splendors breed
— — The golden thunders of the sun.

Beneath the whitening stars I flew
— — And floated moon-like on the breeze,
Or my frail heart was pierced through
— — With sharp sweet flowers of the trees.

Of giant crags I bear the scars,
— — And I have swept along the gale,
Such multitudes as are the stars,
— — My myriad faces rapt and pale.

As savage creatures strong and free
— — Make wild the jungle of the wood,
The starry powers that sport in me
— — Habit my silver solitude.

From out my smallness, soft as dew,
— — That utter fastness, stern and deep,
Terrible meanings look at you
— — Like visions from the eyes of sleep.

I cannot leap — I cannot run —
— — I only glimmer, soft and mild,
A limpid water in the sun,
— — A sparkling and a sunlit child.

What stranger ways shall yet be mine
— — When I am spilled, you cannot see.
But now you laugh to watch me shine,
— — And smooth the hidden stars in me.

Lightly you stroke my silver wing —
— — The folded carrier of my soul.
A soft, a shy, a silent thing,
— — A water in a golden bowl!