It is no night to drown in: br A full moon, river lapsing br Black beneath bland mirror-sheen, br br The blue water-mists dropping br Scrim after scrim like fishnets br Though fishermen are sleeping, br br The massive castle turrets br Doubling themselves in a glass br All stillness. Yet these shapes float br br Up toward me, troubling the face br Of quiet. From the nadir br They rise, their limbs ponderous br br With richness, hair heavier br Than sculptured marble. They sing br Of a world more full and clear br br Than can be. Sisters, your song br Bears a burden too weighty br For the whorled ear's listening br br Here, in a well-steered country, br Under a balanced ruler. br Deranging by harmony br br Beyond the mundane order, br Your voices lay siege. You lodge br On the pitched reefs of nightmare, br br Promising sure harborage; br By day, descant from borders br Of hebetude, from the ledge br br Also of high windows. Worse br Even than your maddening br Song, your silence. At the source br br Of your ice-hearted calling -- br Drunkenness of the great depths. br O river, I see drifting br br Deep in your flux of silver br Those great goddesses of peace. br Stone, stone, ferry me down there.