Now iris, like a flock of birds,
Down to the pool's green water flies,
Sunning small, lovely, curving wings
And radiant, scented dyes.
As in a mirror, on the pool
The gold and purple lies.

I waited, hoping for a song,
I saw the tall leaves bend and swing,
It seemed to me some violet throat
Might open presently and sing,
But they were still as birds at night,
Each with his head beneath his wing.