The Picture

“There’s a pool in the ancient forest,” The painter-poet said, “That is violet-blue and emerald From the face of the sky o’erhead.” So, far in the ancient forest, To the heart of the wood went I, But found no pool of emerald, No violet-blue for sky. “There’s a pool in the ancient forest,” Said the painter-poet still. “That is violet-blue and emerald, Near the breast of a rose-green hill.” And the heart of the ancient forest The painter-poet drew, And painted a pool of emerald That thrilled me through and through. Then back to the ancient forest I went with a strange, wild thrill, And I found the pool of emerald, Near the breast of a rose-green hill.