Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,

The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left

Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest

And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn

Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—

It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.

Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…

The grass is very green, my friend… and tousled, like the head of —— your grandson, yes? And the mounta… the mountain we climbed twenty years since for the last

I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken

Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on

Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.

SOFT as the bed in the earth Where a stone has lain— So soft, so smooth and so cool, Spring closes me in With her arms and her hands.

Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow