(a trifle)

Beside me, lakes; and in me, lakes.
Whoever leads me and she is a blaze
Of gracelit water, tall and long of leg,
With a blue spear, and painted like a Celt,
Knows many secret paths; and I’m afraid.
Lakes stretch around me like flat suns;
I’m so much taller than I used to be:
The clouds encircle me around the waist,
And mountains prick my feet like berry-thorns.
But I am smaller than the lakes.
We hear some army wind its horns;
Stars flutter by like feathers shaken from a wing;
Whoever leads me gives to me a sword.
She dives into the lakes; I catch a star
And bind it to my wrist, for I’m afraid,
And plunge behind her down. It’s bright.
And we are joined by silver animals,
Ninehundredninentynine, for war.