Poems (Hardy)/The love-sonnet

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THE LOVE-SONNET
THERE lies a little mirrored pool alone, And far from traveled ways, this side the crest Of day where morning dwells; fair on its breastA planet shines at night, as if its ownFlame would transform the pool into a stone Of splendor, fit for crowned Esther, dressed In coronation glory, for her questBefore Ahasuerus on his throne.This little pool,—ah, let me look therein, And see whence well its waters, pure and clear.  No wiser than the bird whose image dartsFrom edge to edge! Nor never shall I win That secret. Shakespeare knew, and she, that dear  And great one, first in Browning's heart of hearts.

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