The purest form is always the one
But snow has gathered there, has piled up,with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoonSilent patch of ultimate paint. You are
the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoonBetween the high and the low, in this night.
III. Chronology of Northern ExplorationThe purest form is always the one
This third day of our January thaw,The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,
It is as though I were at a second threshold.Homeward into the howling woods, although
I've drifted somewhat from the distant heartThe bees are buzzing,
Only a whiter absence to my mind,Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
When Arctic winds crack down from CanadaEmpty streets I come upon by chance,