O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…

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

Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow

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

Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which

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

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

Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—

You Communists and Republicans! all you Germans and Frenchmen! you corpses and quickeners! The stars are about to melt and fall on you in tears.

The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge

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

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