Smooth it glides upon its travel, <br />Here a wimple, there a gleam-- <br />O the clean gravel! <br />O the smooth stream! <br /> <br />Sailing blossoms, silver fishes, <br />Pave pools as clear as air-- <br />How a child wishes <br />To live down there! <br /> <br />We can see our colored faces <br />Floating on the shaken pool <br />Down in cool places, <br />Dim and very cool; <br /> <br />Till a wind or water wrinkle, <br />Dipping marten, plumping trout, <br />Spreads in a twinkle <br />And blots all out. <br /> <br />See the rings pursue each other; <br />All below grows black as night, <br />Just as if mother <br />Had blown out the light! <br /> <br />Patience, children, just a minute-- <br />See the spreading circles die; <br />The stream and all in it <br />Will clear by-and-by.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/looking-glass-river/
