Florine

Out of the road into a way across
Come, swallows, it's good-bye.
Partly stone, partly the absence of stone,
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
The form sought for centuries by
Reshaping magnified, each risen flake
Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
Between the vertex that the far-lit gray
VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition
Where does this all end? What is the vanishing
Wind, sleet. The branches sway,
Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
That only you and I can know. Les deux
Only a whiter absence to my mind,
Everywhere, utterly.
References
I draw near to one of them, the lowest,
the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoon
Like some poor wounded wretch—long left for dead