No space between, at least not seen,
A gleaming gild shines there.
A golden scent from air is lent,
The heavenly pools in pair.

As but a child, not much less wild,
Hills and hills on endless days.
Hand on hand, a soft demand,
Kind words a hidden maze.

A trap undue, to seeker true,
A rolling boil beneath,
The buzzards nigh are heard on high
Each pool now fiery wreath.