The first bell is silver, <br />And breathing darkness I think only of the long scythe of time. <br />The second bell is crimson, <br />And I think of a holiday night, with rockets <br />Furrowing the sky with red, and a soft shatter of stars. <br />The third bell is saffron and slow, <br />And I behold a long sunset over the sea <br />With wall on wall of castled cloud and glittering balustrades. <br />The fourth bell is color of bronze, <br />I walk by a frozen lake in the dun light of dusk: <br />Muffled crackings run in the ice, <br />Trees creak, birds fly. <br />The fifth bell is cold clear azure, <br />Delicately tinged with green: <br />One golden star hangs melting in it, <br />And towards this, sleepily, I go. <br />The sixth bell is as if a pebble <br />Had been dropped into a deep sea far above me . . . <br />Rings of sound ebb slowly into the silence.<br /><br />Conrad Potter Aiken<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/improvisations-light-and-snow-03/
