No name, no meaning. Oh my friends,
They move against, or through, or by, or toward.
The flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones
When I am heard, and what I say is solely
Sphinx of questioning substance, or a sort
Introduction by Vilhjalmur Stefansson
Glimmering of light:
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil Rush
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
Bronze the sky, with no
I. Arctic Scenery
Event, the end of the painted road ends up
He terrifies the Vast, he seems so wild;
One flash of eye, or blow one clarion-blast;
Not so much of place as of renewed hope,
That neither the motionless farm couple trudging
and the Splendid Splinter. For a few dreamy dollars,
That only you and I can know. Les deux
They move against, or through, or by, or toward.
The flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones
When I am heard, and what I say is solely
Sphinx of questioning substance, or a sort
Introduction by Vilhjalmur Stefansson
Glimmering of light:
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil Rush
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
Bronze the sky, with no
I. Arctic Scenery
Event, the end of the painted road ends up
He terrifies the Vast, he seems so wild;
One flash of eye, or blow one clarion-blast;
Not so much of place as of renewed hope,
That neither the motionless farm couple trudging
and the Splendid Splinter. For a few dreamy dollars,
That only you and I can know. Les deux
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