The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers

Take it out in vile whisky, take i… in lifting your skirts to show you… crotches; it is this that is inten… You are it. Your pleas will alway… You too will always go up with the…

And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn

Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and— In the tall, dried grasses

As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right

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

Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves

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

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

The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left

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

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.

An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…