By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields

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

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

The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky

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

If a man can say of his life or any moment of his life, There is nothing more to be desired! his st… becomes like that told in the famo… double sonnet—but without the

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

You say love is this, love is that… Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip— branches drifting apart. Hagh!

These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night

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

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