Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees

The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,

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

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

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,

Leaves are graygreen, the glass broken, bright green.

It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.

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.

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.

The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls

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

O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…

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…

My wife’s new pink slippers have gay pompons. There is not a spot or a stain on their satin toes or their sides… All night they lie together