Between the high and the low, in this night.
Scrawny wolves, and you,
Allowing me to let your picture form and wake
they sit with their wives all day in the sun,
Are muffled into silence that refuses
High on this surface, guarding the edge of Père
To a higher level of appearance.
Close at the end of distance the two Chose
The flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones
Of observation lying on the ground
Not so much of place as of renewed hope,
XVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the Fram
Between the high and the low, in this night.
To reach out into its own vanishing
Homeward into the howling woods, although
He never even dreams, being sheer snow;
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
Yes. You'd want that said, (if you
Shadows keep piling up as surfaces
Scrawny wolves, and you,
Allowing me to let your picture form and wake
they sit with their wives all day in the sun,
Are muffled into silence that refuses
High on this surface, guarding the edge of Père
To a higher level of appearance.
Close at the end of distance the two Chose
The flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones
Of observation lying on the ground
Not so much of place as of renewed hope,
XVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the Fram
Between the high and the low, in this night.
To reach out into its own vanishing
Homeward into the howling woods, although
He never even dreams, being sheer snow;
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
Yes. You'd want that said, (if you
Shadows keep piling up as surfaces
