Pierced by the mist that fades away,At four, the spectators leave in pairs, offI know,Of meaning like these—the world created byAnd melt the spirit; his mouth will distendAt these masses the snow hides from me.Homeward into the howling woods, althoughFigures of light and dark, these two are walkingHoarfrost is in his bones and on his head,With sun's warmth wasted on a stone,VII. Hudson and His Strait; Baffin and His Baytrainer flips young alligators over on their backs,and chaste, lovely as lakes to the retired menAre muffled into silence that refusesVI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil RushIn Florida, it's strawberry season—<br>Palladio who beckons from the other shore,The high whites spread over the buried earth."Be off!" say Winter's snows;