Bruno

Two of us, Docteur and Madame Machin, who stand
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
As if your absence now concluded long ago.
At the end of the road. Even if they are staring
At the end of the road. Even if they are staring
Swaying in unison beneath the snow,
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
Only a fox whose den I cannot find.
Are muffled into silence that refuses
Trampled snow is the only rose.
And I would like
Introduction by Vilhjalmur Stefansson
at balls hit again and again toward her offspring.
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil Rush
So, startled, quivering,
Everywhere, utterly.
Oh you builders,
I do not betray you, I still go forward,