This wood burns a dark <br />Incense. Pale moss drips <br />In elbow-scarves, beards <br /> <br />From the archaic <br />Bones of the great trees. <br />Blue mists move over <br /> <br />A lake thick with fish. <br />Snails scroll the border <br />Of the glazed water <br /> <br />With coils of ram's-horn. <br />Out in the open <br />Down there the late year <br /> <br />Hammers her rare and <br />Various metals. <br />Old pewter roots twist <br /> <br />Up from the jet-backed <br />Mirror of water <br />And while the air's clear <br /> <br />Hourglass sifts a <br />Drift of goldpieces <br />Bright waterlights are <br /> <br />Sliding their quoits one <br />After the other <br />Down boles of the fir.<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dark-wood-dark-water/
