From there. Toward . . .
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
The form sought for centuries by
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire,
XV. The International Circumpolar Stations: The Greely Expedition
In search of brighter green to come. No way!
whose soft bristles graze the top-racks.
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
Although December's frost killed the winter crop,
will be penciled on the coffeeshop menus.
Away, my songs, must we go
watching calisthenics from the grandstands.
Still has to be intoned, as in a lonely
Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
and chaste, lovely as lakes to the retired men
with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
The road, but not far enough ahead
Never does any motion, sound, or light
Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
The form sought for centuries by
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire,
XV. The International Circumpolar Stations: The Greely Expedition
In search of brighter green to come. No way!
whose soft bristles graze the top-racks.
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
Although December's frost killed the winter crop,
will be penciled on the coffeeshop menus.
Away, my songs, must we go
watching calisthenics from the grandstands.
Still has to be intoned, as in a lonely
Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
and chaste, lovely as lakes to the retired men
with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
The road, but not far enough ahead
Never does any motion, sound, or light
Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.
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