The Golden Fish
The golden fish beneath the stonesThat line the bottom of the lakeWill never rise to greet my willAlthough I stir the surface upWith hollow reeds of sight and sound;But when I drown myself in sleepThey dart alive and ripple throughThe shining waters of my dreams.
From Descent from Eden. Reprinted with permission of Kathleen Forsythe, Cogswell's literary executor. Back to Selected Poems