"Now it's my turn to sing!" References From point to point of meaning—open? closed??br> A kind of snow, which hesitates And still my mind goes groping in the mud to bring Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines, Two of us, Docteur and Madame Machin, who stand This third day of our January thaw, And I would like "Now it's my turn to sing!" I've drifted somewhat from the distant heart And the worlds—skiffs rudderless, rolling on?br> I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen And trumpet at his lips; nor does he cast Two of us, Docteur and Madame Machin, who stand At the end of the road. Even if they are staring And piled up at the base of the columns In the woods, close by, A rabbit carcass in its stiffened fur.