Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people. <br />Where do the black trees go that drink here? <br />Their shadows must cover Canada. <br /> <br />A little light is filtering from the water flowers. <br />Their leaves do not wish us to hurry: <br />They are round and flat and full of dark advice. <br /> <br />Cold worlds shake from the oar. <br />The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes. <br />A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand; <br /> <br />Stars open among the lilies. <br />Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens? <br />This is the silence of astounded souls.<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crossing-the-water/
