It is no night to drown in: <br />A full moon, river lapsing <br />Black beneath bland mirror-sheen, <br /> <br />The blue water-mists dropping <br />Scrim after scrim like fishnets <br />Though fishermen are sleeping, <br /> <br />The massive castle turrets <br />Doubling themselves in a glass <br />All stillness. Yet these shapes float <br /> <br />Up toward me, troubling the face <br />Of quiet. From the nadir <br />They rise, their limbs ponderous <br /> <br />With richness, hair heavier <br />Than sculptured marble. They sing <br />Of a world more full and clear <br /> <br />Than can be. Sisters, your song <br />Bears a burden too weighty <br />For the whorled ear's listening <br /> <br />Here, in a well-steered country, <br />Under a balanced ruler. <br />Deranging by harmony <br /> <br />Beyond the mundane order, <br />Your voices lay siege. You lodge <br />On the pitched reefs of nightmare, <br /> <br />Promising sure harborage; <br />By day, descant from borders <br />Of hebetude, from the ledge <br /> <br />Also of high windows. Worse <br />Even than your maddening <br />Song, your silence. At the source <br /> <br />Of your ice-hearted calling -- <br />Drunkenness of the great depths. <br />O river, I see drifting <br /> <br />Deep in your flux of silver <br />Those great goddesses of peace. <br />Stone, stone, ferry me down there.<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lorelei/
