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 little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices

A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was

And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn

They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.

THERE is a bird in the poplars— It is the sun! The leaves are little yellow fish Swimming in the river; The bird skims above them—

The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,

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

The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,

A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which

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

Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on

Well, Lizzie Anderson! seventeen… the baby hard to find a father for… What will the good Father in Heav… to the local judge if he do not so… A little two-pointed smile and—pou…

contend in a sea which the land pa… shielding them from the too—heavy… of an ungoverned ocean which when… tortures the biggest hulls, the be… to pit against its beatings, and s…