By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields

When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,

While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on

A middle-northern March, now as a… gusts from the South broken agains… but from under, as if a slow hand… it moves—not into April—into a sec… the old skin of wind-clear scales…

a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island

Oh, black Persian cat! Was not your life already cursed with offspring? We took you for rest to that old Yankee farm, —so lonely

Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…

In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square

Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest

Ecstatic bird songs pound the hollow vastness of the sky with metallic clinkings— beating color up into it at a far edge,—beating it, beating…

This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream

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

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...

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

According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field