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Only a fox whose den I cannot find.
�Now that you notice it�have just moved past
In the sound of the snow. What the countless
Of observation lying on the ground
snoozing. A schoolgirl on vacation gapes,
That neither the motionless farm couple trudging
Mère and Père Chose are walking away from the
Rain. We are forced to fly,
At San Biagio, in the most intense room
XIV. Franz Josef Land: The Amazing Drift of the Tegetthoff
III. Chronology of Northern Exploration
Not so much of place as of renewed hope,
Floating on the sky.
To watch me watch drowned snow lift from the lake.
Suddenly, in a savage, dreadful bend,
Everywhere, utterly.
Wheel tracks entrench themselves in snow, yet painted
I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note