Four walls of glass – and water full
A base of earth and stone
He tender – places greenery
To gild Poseidon’s throne
And finely trims with surgeons heed
A bed of dancing weave
That wave about – the ebb and flow
And rest against the rock
Each outcrop, cliff and valley
Sculpted finest masonry
A rivulet of fine white sand
A cooled and silvered scar
To each its place a place for each,
Not left to whit or whim
He tends his underwater world
But who does tend to him?