"Be off!" say Winter's snows;
Appear to lift up from the lake;
Covering the land—
Given by nature will soak into it.
VII. Hudson and His Strait; Baffin and His Bay
Of a far barn, just where the road curves sharply
Summer bees were saying
To reach out into its own vanishing
I. Arctic Scenery
and preening, dancing on the basepaths,
Trampled snow is the only rose.
giddy as good kids playing hookey. Now,
Where does this all end? What is the vanishing
Again awaken from your being gone to find
I might have happily lived some other childhood.
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
What can we know of whatever picture-plane
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
Coextensive with everything? How could they know?
Appear to lift up from the lake;
Covering the land—
Given by nature will soak into it.
VII. Hudson and His Strait; Baffin and His Bay
Of a far barn, just where the road curves sharply
Summer bees were saying
To reach out into its own vanishing
I. Arctic Scenery
and preening, dancing on the basepaths,
Trampled snow is the only rose.
giddy as good kids playing hookey. Now,
Where does this all end? What is the vanishing
Again awaken from your being gone to find
I might have happily lived some other childhood.
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
What can we know of whatever picture-plane
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
Coextensive with everything? How could they know?
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