All things draw to the river

Here's another Ted Hughes poem, taken from this 2003 'Collected Poems' volume, which stretches to some 1,300 pages!


Everything is on its Way to the River

The bull - a planting tree - on its hind legs,
The dandelion clock - salvoes of dryness,
The elephants of granite - herds of slowness,
And the moonlighting hare with fleas in its lugs

Are on their way to the river.

With the stink-horn fungus' satyriasis,
The girl's blush that spills down over her breasts,
The hive's drunk legs - its bellyful of dark beasts,
The shivering favourite - lightning in its face.

The Lord's rainbow processions, in pomp, to the river.
Tombstone letters are wriggling lights on the river.
Continents are the hourglass grains of the river.
All things draw to the river.

Under them all
The river, itself and unalterable.

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Ted Hughes (1930 - 1998)

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