Far up the mountain-side today br The slopes are baked and hot; br I find no shade upon my way, br And water-springs are not. br br Here, where a little gully's wall br Takes shadow from the south, br I see a tiny rillet crawl br From out a stony mouth. br br Now, where the stream begins to fail br Below a narrow brink, br I carve a basin in the shale br That small wild things may drink. br br A poor and shallow cup, at best, br But good for beaks and lips. br Slowly from out the mountain's breast br The clearing water drips; br br And well I know when sunset light br Makes sharp the canyon rims. br My pool will wait the things of night, br Where pure and cool it brims. . . .