THE SKY IN THE POOL

Down by the glassy pool Sand and water meet, There's a little wooden stool, Marks of little feet. When the broth was in the bowl, Mother called to-day; Mother called and no one came, Someone was away. Then there came a little boy, Whose broth was very cool, Stuttering in wonderment, "The sky is in the pool!" And mother wept, because the clear Depths of all pool-skies, The soul's wonder, the heart's fear, Were gathered in his eyes.

WHISPER! Anyone seen Micky, say, On the Coota-wattle perching? He might know and run away If he knows we're searching, searching.