The Broken Fountain

Oblong, its jutted ends rounding into circles, The old sunken basin lies with its flat, marble lip An inch below the terrace tiles. Over the stagnant water Slide reflections: The blue-green of coned yews; The purple and red of trailing fuchsias Dripping out of marble urns; Bright squares of sky Ribbed by the wake of a swimming beetle. Through the blue-bronze water Wavers the pale uncertainty of a shadow. An arm flashes through the reflections, A breast is outlined with leaves. Outstretched in the quiet water The statue of a Goddess slumbers. But when Autumn comes The beech leaves cover her with a golden counter-pane.