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

Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…

The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail

Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…

This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...

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

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

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

I feel the caress of my own finger… on my own neck as I place my colla… and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.

I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter

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

Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue

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…