Monday 19 March 2007

Another Fishy Poem

Fragments of 'Pike' by Ted Hughes.

To be precise, the final four verses of eleven.
To me, the first seven verses are in fact a separate, and inferior poem.
If you want to read it, go elsewhere. Me? I'm only posting the final four..


vs 7-11

A pond I fished, fifty yards across,
Whose lilies and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stone
Of the monastery that planted them.

Stilled legendary depth:
It was as deep as England.It held
Pike too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not cast

But silently cast and fished
With the hair frozen on my head
For what eye might move,
the still splashes on the dark pond

Owls humbling the floating woods
Frail on my ear against the dream
Darkness beneath night's darkness had freed,
That rose slowly towards me, watching.