Singing water running swiftly
Flowing downward to the valley
Spraying off intrusive stone
Cataract plunging to the bottom
Pool fern shrouded surprise
Natural garden in the forest
Eels waiting in the dark
For a passing trout to feed on
Heads large as clenched fists
Ruthless hunters on the chain
Only predated on by man
Regretfully we turn away
No skinny-dipping in that pool.

Thomas Golding

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-bushclad-surprise/