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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=367996" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Well</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=367996" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">At sixteen I believed the moonlight <br>could change me if it would.<br>          I moved my head<br>on the pillow, even moved my bed<br>as the moon slowly<br>crossed the open lattice.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=367996" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I wanted beauty, a dangerous<br>gleam of steel, my body thinner,<br>my pale face paler.<br>          I moonbathed<br>diligently, as others sunbathe.<br>But the moon's unsmiling stare<br>kept me awake. Mornings,<br>I was flushed and cross.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=367996" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It was on dark nights of deep sleep<br>that I dreamed the most, sunk in the well,<br>and woke rested, and if not beautiful,<br>filled with some other power.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Denise+Levertov">Denise Levertov</a></strong></div>

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