Explore "The Pool" by Frederic Manning on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
My soul is like a lake, whose waters glass / Stars, and the silver clouds which uncontrolled / Sail through the heavens, and the hills which fold / Its valley in a peace, tall reeds, and grass, / And all the wandering flights of birds, that pass / Through the bright air; and, in itself, doth hold / Naiads with smooth white limbs and hair of gold: / So is my dreaming soul. And yet, alas!
It holds but visions, unsubstantial things.
Transient, momentary; and the feet / Of winds that smite the waters, blur the whole.
Shattering with the hurrying pulse of wings / That crystal quiet, which hath grown so sweet / With fragile reveries. Such is my soul.