NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,

You Communists and Republicans! all you Germans and Frenchmen! you corpses and quickeners! The stars are about to melt and fall on you in tears.

Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!

From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor

Men with picked voices chant the n… of cities in a huge gallery: promi… that pull through descending stair… to a deep rumbling. The rubbing feet

One leaves his leaves at home beomg a mullen and sends up a ligh… to peer from: I will have my way, yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten fifty, a hundred, smaller and smal…

Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—

First he said: It is the woman in us That makes us write– Let us acknowledge it– Men would be silent.

beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and

THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—

Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,

Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:

They tell me on the morrow I must… This winter eyrie for a southern f… And truth to tell I tremble with… At thought of such unheralded repr… E’er have I known December in a w…