Roman Fountain

Up from the bronze,

I

Water without a

Rush to its rest in air,

Reach to its rest, and fall.

Bronze of the blackest shade,

An element man-made,

Shaping upright the

Clear gouts of water in air.

O, as with arm and hammer,

Still it is good to

To beat out the image whole,

To echo the shout and

When full-gushed waters, alive,

Strike on the fountain's

After the air of summer.