Oh strong—ridged and deeply hollow… nose of mine! what will you not be… What tactless asses we are, you an… always indiscriminate, always unas… and now it is the souring flowers…

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

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

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

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

The coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…

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

Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves or at best against treacherous

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

Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of

There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind

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

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