The Water Stair
Under cypresses, ilexes, myrtles, within
Granite edges, or slipped over broad-ended stairs,
Is a moving of water, and large tranquil squares
Stain its umber and gold with a green lily skin.
No splash, just a ripple which jars the smooth air
Into damp undulations. Remote and suspended
Winds pause in the trees, and the shadows are blended
With gleams as of moonlight entangling drowned hair.
Steps — steps — phantom footsteps. They shuffle and blur
And crowd the wide stairs with an odd, timid stir
Thinly teasing the sense where there's nothing to hear.
Crimson heels, silver clocks, the shock of them whines
With the shrillness of flutes in the thick atmosphere.
Purple flutes fading silver and rose through the pines.
Liquid lap of old water, and I am confused
With the scent of crushed violets my feet have bruised.
Granite edges, or slipped over broad-ended stairs,
Is a moving of water, and large tranquil squares
Stain its umber and gold with a green lily skin.
No splash, just a ripple which jars the smooth air
Into damp undulations. Remote and suspended
Winds pause in the trees, and the shadows are blended
With gleams as of moonlight entangling drowned hair.
Steps — steps — phantom footsteps. They shuffle and blur
And crowd the wide stairs with an odd, timid stir
Thinly teasing the sense where there's nothing to hear.
Crimson heels, silver clocks, the shock of them whines
With the shrillness of flutes in the thick atmosphere.
Purple flutes fading silver and rose through the pines.
Liquid lap of old water, and I am confused
With the scent of crushed violets my feet have bruised.
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