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…

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…

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…

Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem— save that it’s green and wooden— I come, my sweet,

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 thefield by force; the grass

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—

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

It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for

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.

While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on

the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie

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

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

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