These black bush-waters, heavy with crusted boughs <br />Like plumes above dead captains, wake the mind.... <br />Uncounted kissing, unremembered vows, <br />Nights long forgotten, moons too dark to find, <br />Or stars too cold...all quick things that have fled <br />Whilst these old bubbles uprise in older stone, <br />Return like pale dead faces of children dead, <br />Staring unfelt through doors for ever unknown. <br /> <br />O silent ones that drink these timeless pools, <br />Eternal brothers, bending so deeply over, <br />Your branches tremble above my tears again... <br />And even my songs are stolen from some old lover <br />Who cried beneath your leaves like other fools, <br />While still they whisper "in vain...in vain...in vain..." <br /> <br /><br /><br />Kenneth Slessor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mangroves/
