Кларк Эштон Смит (Clark Ashton Smith)

The Morning Pool

    All night the pool held mysteries,
      Vague depths of night that lay in dream,
    Where phantoms of the pale-white stars
      Wandered, with darkness-tangled gleam.

    And now it holds the limpid light
      And shadeless azure of the skies,
    Wherein, like some enclaspèd gem,
      The morning's golden glamour lies.