Dismal, endless plain�
Of the matter of snow here. Both of us have grasped
At the white place of the road's vanishing
Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
And melt the spirit; his mouth will distend
Is the moon to grow
there's a pulpy orange-y smell from juice factories....
Are gliding toward me on the ice into
and chaste, lovely as lakes to the retired men
Across the heavens' gray.
XVIII. The Northeast and Northwest Passages
He never even dreams, being sheer snow;
Snaps of ice cracking in the hidden air.
When Arctic winds crack down from Canada
Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
snowdrops and crocuses might be fooled
Glimmering of light:
And all at once it is the meadow I walked in at ten,
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent�
Of the matter of snow here. Both of us have grasped
At the white place of the road's vanishing
Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
And melt the spirit; his mouth will distend
Is the moon to grow
there's a pulpy orange-y smell from juice factories....
Are gliding toward me on the ice into
and chaste, lovely as lakes to the retired men
Across the heavens' gray.
XVIII. The Northeast and Northwest Passages
He never even dreams, being sheer snow;
Snaps of ice cracking in the hidden air.
When Arctic winds crack down from Canada
Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
snowdrops and crocuses might be fooled
Glimmering of light:
And all at once it is the meadow I walked in at ten,
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent�
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