The hop-poles stand in cones, <br />The icy pond lurks under, <br />The pole-tops steeple to the thrones <br />Of stars, sound gulfs of wonder; <br />But not the tallest thee, 'tis said, <br />Could fathom to this pond's black bed. <br />Then is not death at watch <br />Within those secret waters? <br />What wants he but to catch <br />Earth's heedless sons and daughters? <br />With but a crystal parapet <br />Between, he has his engines set. <br /> <br />Then on, blood shouts, on, on, <br />Twirl, wheel and whip above him, <br />Dance on this ball-floor thin and wan, <br />Use him as though you love him; <br />Court him, elude him, reel and pass, <br />And let him hate you through the glass.<br /><br />Edmund Blunden<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-midnight-skaters-2/
