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

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

In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…

It is still warm enough to slip from the weeds into the lake’s edge, your clothes blushing in the grass and three small boys grinning behind the derelict hearth’s side. But summer...

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

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

A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing

Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.

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

The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky

SOFT as the bed in the earth Where a stone has lain— So soft, so smooth and so cool, Spring closes me in With her arms and her hands.

Little round moon up there—wait awhile—do not walk so quickly. I could sing you a song—: Wine clear the sky is and the stars no bigger than sparks! Wait for me and next winter we’ll bui...

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

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…