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Lorelei

by Sylvia Plath

It is no night to drown in:

A full moon, river lapsing

Black beneath bland mirror-sheen,

The blue water-mists dropping

Scrim after scrim like fishnets

Though fishermen are sleeping,

The massive castle turrets

Doubling themselves in a glass

All stillness. Yet these shapes float

Up toward me, troubling the face

Of quiet. From the nadir

They rise, their limbs ponderous

With richness, hair heavier

Than sculptured marble. They sing

Of a world more full and clear

Than can be. Sisters, your song

Bears a burden too weighty

For the whorled ear's listening

Here, in a well-steered country,

Under a balanced ruler.

Deranging by harmony
Beyond the mundane order,

Your voices lay siege. You lodge

On the pitched reefs of nightmare,

Promising sure harborage;

By day, descant from borders

Of hebetude, from the ledge

Also of high windows. Worse

Even than your maddening

Song, your silence. At the source

Of your ice-hearted calling-

Drunkenness of the great depths.

O river, I see drifting

Deep in your flux of silver

Those great goddesses of peace.

Stone, stone, ferry me down there.

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