Amanda Hall

ABOVE the foam curled a light plume of steam—

An airy blue embodiment of dream,

That drew the tribute of her eager gaze

As though it were a genie from a vase.

Her hands worked on with even rise and fall,

But she was not aware of them at all.

A breeze came in, a stranger to the town,

And set her tumblers bobbing up and down,

And making tinkly music, frail and sweet,

Like fairy bells you startle with your feet

In woodland grass. Then happily her soul

Awoke to sunlight nesting in a bowl:

A little crystal boat it seemed to be

Upon the life and lustre of the sea.