Poems (Forrest)/The honey pool
THE HONEY POOL"A honey pool will be enforced."—Markets item.
Does it lie in a place of rusty fern
With the young cowls leaning to look therein?
Do the pale gold spiders across it spin?
Do the sunrays bathe in it, till they burn
The ripples of mead that are syrup-sweet,
Does it make a snare for the beetles' feet?
With the young cowls leaning to look therein?
Do the pale gold spiders across it spin?
Do the sunrays bathe in it, till they burn
The ripples of mead that are syrup-sweet,
Does it make a snare for the beetles' feet?
It has set the ox-eyed daisies wondering,
And a gallant iris beside the rim
Has swung towards it, till, blurred and dim,
Its purple image the pool is pondering,
Half-angered deep in its sunlit fold,
That the sombre petals should dull such gold.
And a gallant iris beside the rim
Has swung towards it, till, blurred and dim,
Its purple image the pool is pondering,
Half-angered deep in its sunlit fold,
That the sombre petals should dull such gold.
Where the fairy lances of tall reeds meet
With their green flags lisping of scented things,
Does the herald bee come with hurrying wings,
For news like this must be carried fleet,
"Oh, comrades mine, by the grey toadstool
I saw myself in a honey pool!"
With their green flags lisping of scented things,
Does the herald bee come with hurrying wings,
For news like this must be carried fleet,
"Oh, comrades mine, by the grey toadstool
I saw myself in a honey pool!"
A big black butterfly, softly winging,
Poised there and sipped as it fluttered through;
And a lark dropped down from the arch of blue,
For his willing throat had grown hoarse with singing;
So he filled his beak where the pool lay bright
And his voice went on in a trail of light.
Poised there and sipped as it fluttered through;
And a lark dropped down from the arch of blue,
For his willing throat had grown hoarse with singing;
So he filled his beak where the pool lay bright
And his voice went on in a trail of light.
The rainbow ribboned above its gleaming,
And, as a mirror of copper shows
A queen's flushed cheek, it was painted rose
By the agile dawn with the mauve mists scheming;
And ere the sun in the hot hills slept
He had flung gold arrows to test its depth.
And, as a mirror of copper shows
A queen's flushed cheek, it was painted rose
By the agile dawn with the mauve mists scheming;
And ere the sun in the hot hills slept
He had flung gold arrows to test its depth.
By the small gilt horns of the new moon ambered
The feathery night-moths came there to feed;
And, to certain death in their scrambling greed,
A fated army: the black ants clambered,
And many a lovely, foolish thing
Was dragged to death thro' a honeyed wing.
The feathery night-moths came there to feed;
And, to certain death in their scrambling greed,
A fated army: the black ants clambered,
And many a lovely, foolish thing
Was dragged to death thro' a honeyed wing.
Then there came a grocer to walk that way,
And he crushed the fern with his placid feet,
And he found the pool that was golden sweet
When the air was tender as new-mown hay;
And he drained that pool, for it seemed no sin,
And he packed it all into squares of tin.
And he crushed the fern with his placid feet,
And he found the pool that was golden sweet
When the air was tender as new-mown hay;
And he drained that pool, for it seemed no sin,
And he packed it all into squares of tin.
You can buy it now in the nearest shop—
There's a State-fixed charge, so you won't pay over
The standard price if it taste of clover,
Or you find a rainbow in every drop,
For no man can rate such magic things
As the iridescence on wild moths' wings!
There's a State-fixed charge, so you won't pay over
The standard price if it taste of clover,
Or you find a rainbow in every drop,
For no man can rate such magic things
As the iridescence on wild moths' wings!
The song of the lark or an iris petal,
The green delights of a beetle's back,
Unscheduled compounds he came to pack
In a labelled tin of the homeliest metal:
Just take your honey, and don't suppose
That the serious soul of the grocer knows!
The green delights of a beetle's back,
Unscheduled compounds he came to pack
In a labelled tin of the homeliest metal:
Just take your honey, and don't suppose
That the serious soul of the grocer knows!