Men die’€¦ Dreams only change their houses. They cannot be lined up against a… And quietly buried under ground, And no more heard of’€¦

That was a great night we spied up… See-sawing home, Singing a hot sweet song to the su… Shuffling off behind the smoke-haz… Fog-horns sentimentalizing on the…

Dance, little children... it is ho… Have you hung paper flowers about… Dance soft . . . but very gaily...… Spread your little pinafores And courtesy as the snow does . .…

Cherry, cherry, glowing on the hearth, bright red cherry... When you try to pick up cherry Celia’s shriek

The soldiers lie upon the snow, That no longer gyrates under the s… Night juggles in her fat black han… They will not babble any more secr… nights

I wonder how it would be here with you, where the wind that has shaken off its dust in lo… touches one cleanly,

Was there a wind? Tap... tap... Night pads upon the snow with moccasined feet... and it is still... so still... an eagle's feather might fall like a stone. Could there have been a storm...

Blow through me wind As you blow through apple blossoms… Scatter me in shining petals over… Joyously I reunite’€¦ sway and ga… Sedately I walk by the dancing fe…

Come forth, you workers! Let the fires go cold’€” Let the iron spill out, out of the… Let the iron run wild Like a red bramble on the floors’€…

A late snow beats With cold white fists upon the ten… Hurriedly drawing blinds and shutt… Like tall old slatterns Pulling aprons about their heads.

The old men of the world have made… To warm their trembling hands. They poke the young men in. The young men burn like withes. If one run a little way,

Man of the flame-eyes And mouth with the bitter twist of… And little bald man . . . whose se… Is akin to the velocity of a spinn… Holding its perfect poise—

I would be a torch unto your hand, A lamp upon your forehead, Labor, In the wild darkness before the D… That I shall never see… We shall advance together, my Bel…

Drab discoloration Of faces, façades, pawn-shops, Second-hand clothing, Smoky and fly-blown glass of lunch… Odors of rancid life’€¦

The earth is motionless And poised in space .... A great bird resting in its flight Between the alleys of the stars. It is the wind’s hour off ....