As down I bent with eager lips
Above the stones and cresses cool—
The yellow tent, the little moon,
I found within my twilight pool.
The fringing trees, the floating moon,
The bubble tent—I passed them by,
And sipped a tiny, shattered star,
Deep drinking from that mirrored sky.
II
My tent is shadowed day and night
With leaves that shift in moon and sun;
Across its walls of lucent white
The lovely varied tracings run;
And black and slender, quickly sped,
I watch the little feet at dawn—
A sudden oriole overhead,
A darting linnet come and gone.