Green lilac buds appear that won't survive
With sun's warmth wasted on a stone,
Of tree-dividing sky finally comes down to
Summer bees were saying
In Florida, it's strawberry season�
and chaste, lovely as lakes to the retired men
Seems reflected in the infinite of the lamps.
The high whites spread over the buried earth.
Close at the end of distance the two Chose
XII. The Mystery of the Missing Ships: The Franklin Search
The surge of swirling wind defines
And all at once it is the meadow I walked in at ten,
Of the matter of snow here. Both of us have grasped
From there. Toward . . .
Grateful, I know, for just such compensations,
demonstrating their talent for comedy�stroke
Out of the road into a way across
And still my mind goes groping in the mud to bring
Like some poor wounded wretch�long left for dead
With sun's warmth wasted on a stone,
Of tree-dividing sky finally comes down to
Summer bees were saying
In Florida, it's strawberry season�
and chaste, lovely as lakes to the retired men
Seems reflected in the infinite of the lamps.
The high whites spread over the buried earth.
Close at the end of distance the two Chose
XII. The Mystery of the Missing Ships: The Franklin Search
The surge of swirling wind defines
And all at once it is the meadow I walked in at ten,
Of the matter of snow here. Both of us have grasped
From there. Toward . . .
Grateful, I know, for just such compensations,
demonstrating their talent for comedy�stroke
Out of the road into a way across
And still my mind goes groping in the mud to bring
Like some poor wounded wretch�long left for dead
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