Gladness Ode
Because you made me glad, I was the net. "Why do you haunt me?" asked the midnight lake. "To fish," I said, "that rounded fire. Am not afraid to fall."
No, though that halo moved and moved and moved, It could not hide from me for all its slyness. (Beneath the waters warningly Moon's Icaruses sprawl.)
High watchers glowed their pity on the lake: "To wear mere mirrored circle like a crown, Is it for this the young men drown?" But I, being net, must haul.
Before you made me glad, I feared such splashing; Futile invoker then: "Dive me-ward, moon." But now it's I who dive defiant Cold curves like a ball.
The lake sang out in grace-notes scrawled by stars. I was the net, and all my strands were glad. I pulled the moon out of the water; It wasn't heavy at all.