Improvisations: Light And Snow: 03

The first bell is silver,     And breathing darkness I think only of the long scythe of time.     The second bell is crimson,     And I think of a holiday night, with rockets     Furrowing the sky with red, and a soft shatter of stars.     The third bell is saffron and slow,     And I behold a long sunset over the sea     With wall on wall of castled cloud and glittering balustrades.     The fourth bell is color of bronze,     I walk by a frozen lake in the dun light of dusk:     Muffled crackings run in the ice,     Trees creak, birds fly.     The fifth bell is cold clear azure,     Delicately tinged with green:     One golden star hangs melting in it,     And towards this, sleepily, I go.     The sixth bell is as if a pebble     Had been dropped into a deep sea far above me . . .     Rings of sound ebb slowly into the silence.