The Stars in the Pool: A Prose Poem for Lovers
Edition facts
Edna Kingsley Wallace's The Stars in the Pool: A Prose Poem for Lovers opens with a castle that "caught all colours of the dawn and sunset, like unto some peak of snow, remote from men." This initial image of a gleaming, isolated fortress establishes a pattern of contrasting landscapes: the peaceful forest realm of King Telwyn and the volcanic Isle of Lokus, where "living fire had rolled down the mountains." The narrative moves between these two worlds, each defined by distinct elemental imagery—water and light versus fire and stone.
Landscapes of Contrast
The work's structure depends on a sharp geographical and symbolic opposition. Telwyn's forest is described as "a forest of weaving lights and shadows, of dreaming winds, and fragrance wandering," a place of gentle, fluid beauty. In contrast, the Isle of Lokus is a land of "fiery mountains having their roots in the sea," where danger is constant. This dichotomy is not merely scenic; it shapes the characters' journeys. Flame, son of Lokus, must leave his volatile homeland to seek peace and love in Telwyn's realm. The text emphasizes that Lokus sends his son away precisely to escape the "danger betwixt the mountains and the sea." The movement from one landscape to another becomes the narrative's primary engine, with each setting carrying its own emotional and moral weight.
Recurring Images of Craft and Light
Throughout the excerpts, objects made by human hands receive detailed attention, often linked to light or color. Flame is described as one who "fashion of the clay of the earth whatsoever things he saw," and his father remembers his own denied artistic youth. When Flame returns to claim Roseheart, he changes into "raiment of rich silk wherein leapt and flickered all colours as of driftwood burning—copper, and blue, and green, and rose, and violet." Roseheart herself is associated with crafted brightness: her hair is "spun into a web to catch the sun," and she wears "cloth of silver, broidered with roses." These recurring images of woven, wrought, or colored materials create a visual texture that reinforces the theme of creation and transformation.
Movement Between Solitude and Community
The narrative alternates between isolated figures and communal gatherings. Early scenes focus on the solitary castle and the individual characters of Telwyn, Ellaline, and Roseheart. Later, Flame journeys alone, and his dream of the Voice of Vision occurs in solitude. But the text also presents large public celebrations: the people gathered in a meadow for games, with "women and children, some hundreds, clad in fluttering garments of all the colours of joy." Roseheart appears among them, distributing ribbons to victors. This shift from private to public space marks key transitions in the plot. The movement is not random; each communal scene follows a period of individual trial or preparation, suggesting a rhythm of withdrawal and return that structures the prose poem.
The Role of Vision and Voice
Direct speech and visionary experience punctuate the descriptive passages. The most striking instance is the "Voice of Vision" that speaks to Flame in a dream, commanding him: "Arise, and go straightway to claim the maiden Roseheart for thy wife." This voice uses imperative, prophetic language, contrasting with the lyrical third-person narration. It also introduces a moral dimension: Flame has "looked upon death in battle, and feared not" and "looked upon that life which is sin." The voice thus provides explicit guidance and justification for the hero's quest. Other voices appear in the text, such as the songs of the people and the internal reflections of Lokus, but the Voice of Vision stands apart as a direct, authoritative intervention that propels the action forward.
Readers attentive to the prose poem's structure will notice how each section builds on a pattern of departure and return, light and shadow, crafted beauty and natural force. The work rewards those who follow its recurring motifs—the gleam of metal, the texture of fabric, the sound of a voice—rather than expecting a conventional plot. Treat the excerpts as a series of linked tableaux, each contributing to an allegorical whole whose full design remains partly veiled.