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by Anthony Thwaite

Down in the dark water
Where the quick mill-race flows,
Something hidden rises,
Something hidden goes.

Rising, it flashes whitely.
Going, it sinks below.
You cannot recognise it.
You see the water flow

Quickly under the mill-race,
Race down and reach the pond.
Whatever you have seen there
Goes on and out, beyond

Your vision and your knowledge,
Untethered to one place.
It glints, and hints, and teases,
And shows you your own face

Peering below the sluice-gate,
Watching the mill-race fall
Forever and forever,
With not a word at all

Of what you saw - or fancied
You saw - rise up and sink
One moment in the water,
The next over the brink.

Norfolk Poems




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