The Harlequin of Day

 

The Harlequin of Day

 

(Or Ode to a Kingfisher)

 

And there you gleam upon a branch so fine,

A lappet moth might break it with its wing

And how you gaze at me with open heart!

I half-expect the mourning doves to sing!

 

You are God’s crested harlequin of day

The one “most happy in his happiness”

You mock what is insensible beneath,

Yet deign to be the love that I confess.