from Sword Blades and Poppy Seed
Gushing from the mouths of stone men
To spread at ease under the sky
dabble their feet
And rustle to a passing wind,
The water fills the garden with its rushing,
In the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns.
Damp smell the fern
s in tunnels of stone,
Where trickle and plash the fountain
fountains, yellowed with much water.
Splashing down moss
It falls, the water;
And the air is throbbing with it.
With its gurgling and running.
With its leaping, and deep, cool murmur.
And I wished for night and you.
I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool,
White and shining in the silver-flecked water.
While the moon
rode over the garden,
High in the arch of night,
And the scent of the lilacs
was heavy with stillness.
Night, and the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing!
Included in Ezra Pound
anthology Des Imagistes