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to matter, for the flushed boys are muscular
One flash of eye, or blow one clarion-blast;
Looms in the air, deliberate and slow,
IX. After the Great Northern Expedition
Palladio who beckons from the other shore,
Along the walls are only empty niches,
With its lament, it often sounds, instead,
XI. Franklin's Last Voyage
Sits at the limit of a kind of world
the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoon
Introduction by Vilhjalmur Stefansson
Where lamps are lit: these, too,
wonders if she'd ever be brave enough
In Florida, it's strawberry season—
A frame of glided twilight—I
And so I gaze avidly
the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoon
Or else, like us, sunk into some long gaze
To pick up even the quickening of wind