Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang

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

My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.

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…

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…

I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge

Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth ——nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking the field by force; the grass

Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion '€˜tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity

The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices

It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.

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

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…

O’€”eh’€”lee! La’€”la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…