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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=481210" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The House In The Woods</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">At the back of the houses there is the wood.<br>While there is a leaf of summer left, the wood</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Makes sounds I can put somewhere in my song,<br>Has paths I can walk, when I wake, to good</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or evil: to the cage, to the oven, to the House<br>In the Wood. It is a part of life, or of the story</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We make of life. But after the last leaf,<br>The last light--for each year is leafless,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each day lightless, at the last--the wood begins<br>Its serious existence: it has no path,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No house, no story; it resists comparison...<br>One clear, repeated, lapping gurgle, like a spoon</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or a glass breathing, is the brook,<br>The wood's fouled midnight water. If I walk into the wood</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As far as I can walk, I come to my own door,<br>The door of the House in the Wood. It opens silently:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the bed is something covered, something humped<br>Asleep there, awake there--but what? I do not know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I look, I lie there, and yet I do not know.<br>How far out my great echoing clumsy limbs</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stretch, surrounded only by space! For time has struck,<br>All the clocks are stuck now, for how many lives,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the same second. Numbed, wooden, motionless,<br>We are far under the surface of the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nothing comes down so deep but sound: a car, freight cars,<br>A high soft droning, drawn out like a wire</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Forever and ever--is this the sound that Bunyan heard<br>So that he thought his bowels would burst within him?--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Drift on, on, into nothing. Then someone screams<br>A scream like an old knife sharpened into nothing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is only a nightmare. No one wakes up, nothing happens,<br>Except there is gooseflesh over my whole body--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And that too, after a little while, is gone.<br>I lie here like a cut-off limb, the stump the limb has left...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here at the bottom of the world, what was before the world<br>And will be after, holds me to its back</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Breasts and rocks me: the oven is cold, the cage is empty,<br>In the House in the Wood, the witch and her child sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Randall+Jarrell">Randall Jarrell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=481210" data-title="The House In The Woods de Randall Jarrell" data-description="At the back of the houses there is the wood.
While there is a leaf of summer left, the wood

Makes sounds I can put somewhere in my song,
Has paths I can walk, when I wake, to good

Or evil: to the cage, to the oven, to the House
In the Wood. It i..."></div>
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