It's a whistle blown ripe in a trice, <br />It's the cracking of ice in a gale, <br />It's a night that turns green leaves to ice, <br />It's a duel of two nightingales. <br /> <br />It is sweet-peas run gloriously wild, <br />It's the world's twinking tears in the pod, <br />It is Figaro like hot hail hurled <br />From the flutes on the wet flower bed. <br /> <br />It is all that the night hopes to find <br />On the bottom of deep bathing pools, <br />It's the star carried to the fish-pond <br />In your hands, wet and trembling and cool. <br /> <br />This close air is as flat as the boards <br />In the pond. The sky's flat on its face. <br />It would be fun if these stars guffawed- <br />But the universe is a dull place.<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/definition-of-poetry-2/
