Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides

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

Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.

unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line

Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire

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

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

Fools have big wombs. For the rest?—here is pennyroyal if one knows to use it. But time is only another liar, so go along the wall a little further: if blackberries prove bitter there’l...

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

The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls

beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and