Enchantment

 

Are these the glaucous eyes
Of naiads, dim and cool,
That gleam where water lies
In a forgotten pool?...

From shifting depths, obscure
Shimmers their lambent ray
And sheds a soft allure
As rippling shadows play;

While through the limpid glaze
They pierce me with a gaze
Translucent, perfect, proud ---

Or, brooding in the wake
Of a phantasmal cloud,
Are suddenly opaque.

---Bert Laub

Boston, 13 August 1963

Copyright ©1995. All rights reserved.

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