English poetry

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The Well

At sixteen I believed the moonlight
Could change me if it would.
I moved my head
On the pillow, even moved my bed
As the moon slowly
Crossed the open lattice.

I wanted beauty, a dangerous
Gleam of steel, my body thinner,
My pale face paler.
I moonbathed
Diligently, as others sunbathe.
But the moon’s unsmiling stare
Kept me awake. Mornings,
I was flushed and cross.

It was on dark nights of deep sleep
That I dreamed the most, sunk in the well,
And woke rested, and if not beautiful,
Filled with some other power.

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Poem The Well - Denise Levertov