Sabatia Pond
Where the soft circle of Sabatia stars
The water grasses in a sprinkled arc;
And golden ripples break on sandy bars,
And thin blue sails of dragon flies embark—
I think each year, how many sunsets weep;
That day must die; and tinted tears must fall
There where pond ripples to white clethra creep,
And where the margin’s sweet with honey-ball.
I think that where those sky-tears placid lay,
That golden evening stars have also lain;
Reflected on the rosy surface, they
Have dreamed a dream, and wandered on again.
So, where the sunset clouds in sorrow crept,
Now rosy shapes through water grasses trail;
And on that bed where gypsy starlight slept,
Is left a rose-colored star-patterned veil.