The moon draws back its waters from the shore.
By the lake's edge, I see a silver swan,
And she is what I would. In this light air,
Lost opposites bend down -
Sing of that nothing of which all is made,
Or listen into silence, like a god. (Theodore Roethke)

The moon draws back its waters from the shore. By the lake's edge, I see a silver swan, And she is what I would. In this light air, Lost opposites bend down - Sing of that nothing of which all is made, Or listen into silence, like a god.

Theodore Roethke

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air bend edge light listen lost moon nothing see shore silence silver sing

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