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

The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow

This quiet morning light reflected, how many times from grass and tress and clouds enters my north room touching the walls with

I lie here thinking of you:—— the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves,

These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night

the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie

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

It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.

ALL those treasures that lie in t… Mightier than the room of the star… All those treasures—I hold them i… Against the sides and the lid and… Crying that there is no sun come a…

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…

The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge