At the top of the house the apples are laid in rows,
And the skylight lets the moonlight in, and those
Apples are deep-sea apples of green. There goes
A cloud on the moon in the autumn night.
A mouse in the wainscot scratches, and scratches and then
There is no sound at the top of the house of men
Or mice; and the cloud is blown, and the moon again
Dapples the apples with deep-sea light.
They are lying in rows there, under the gloom beams;
On the sagging floor: they gather the silver streams
Out of the moon, those moonlit apples of dreams,
And quiet is the sleep stair under.
In the corridors under there is nothing but sleep.
And stiller than ever on orchard boughs they keep
Tryst with the moon, and deep is the silence, deep
On moon-washed apples of wonder.
John Drinkwater
Through the dappled light, the bright lettering reflects the "silver streams. Out of the moon,"
Lithographic Art Print
Size 720mm x 510mm edition size 50
£60 plus p&p
