Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest

Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway

a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island

This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream

Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem— save that it’s green and wooden— I come, my sweet,

Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides

By constantly tormenting them with reminders of the lice in their children’s hair, the School Physician first brought their hatred down on him.

I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter

You say love is this, love is that… Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip— branches drifting apart. Hagh!

The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,

Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.

You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich

A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.

Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth—nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking thefield by force; the grass