Classic Poem

The waters all but lie, from bridge to bridge,
All unperturbed; slowly sinuous lines
curve to their final dip along the ridge
oak-masses break, or crown in one design.

And look! in all the level vastness, signs
of hidden channels, pools, a million blades;
and flowers flower-entwined; thick recline
heavily curling nenuphars in shade.

The pondweed leaves, in carpet-fashion spread,
are staunch beneath the feet of fleeing hens
the warning fisher's flight has made afraid,
where all but air and water tangles dense.

These miniaturely ripple in the wash
a vole upraises by its tiny splash.