With a hand freed from weight,
Of a far barn, just where the road curves sharply
Silent patch of ultimate paint. You are
The form sought for centuries by
In search of brighter green to come. No way!
Preface to the 1948 Edition
That only you and I can know. Les deux
X. The British Attack on the Arctic
Columbuses or Gamas, ever pass,
Covering the land—
Calling me to you with wild gesturings
Toward . . . that seems to be the whispered question
By what it seems to have moved toward. In any
And so I gaze avidly
to matter, for the flushed boys are muscular
Is it almost honey, is it snow?
then takes a step back, to be safe as she reaches.
The bees are buzzing,
That open before me? What I see