CROSS the hands over the breast… Straighten the legs a little more—… And call for the wagon to come and… Her mother will cry some and so wi… brothers.

A FOREFINGER of stone, dreame… It says: This way! this way! Four lions snore in stone at the c… They too are the dream of a sculpt… They too say: This way! this way!

THE monotone of the rain is beaut… And the sudden rise and slow relap… Of the long multitudinous rain. The sun on the hills is beautiful, Or a captured sunset sea-flung,

REMEMBRANCE for a great man i… The newsies are pitching pennies. And on the copper disk is the man’… Dead lover of boys, what do you as…

THERE was a late autumn cricket, And two smoldering mountain sunset… Under the valley roads of her eyes… There was a late autumn cricket, A hangover of summer song,

CLOSE-MOUTHED you sat five t… let out a whisper. Processions came by, marchers, ask… answered with grey eyes never blin… never talking.

ABOWSKY’S place is on a side street and only the rain washes the dusty three balls. When I passed the window a month ago, there rested in proud isolation: A family bible with hasps ...

All the policemen, saloonkeepers a… knew Bern Dailey; secretary ten y… Pickpockets, yeggs, three card men… from zone to zone, birds of wind a… scavengers.

WHY shall I keep the old name? What is a name anywhere anyway? A name is a cheap thing all father… each child: A job is a job and I want to live…

WHAT can we say of the night? The fog night, the moon night, the… There swept out of the sea a song. There swept out of the sea-torn wh… There came on the coast wind drive

Bend low again, night of summer st… So near you are, sky of summer sta… So near, a long-arm man can pick o… Pick off what he wants in the sky… So near you are, summer stars,

FOR a woman’s face remembered as a spot of quick light on the flat land of dark night, For this memory of one mouth and a forehead they go on in the gray rain and the mud, they go on ...

NOW that a crimson rambler begins to crawl over the house of our two lives— Now that a red curve winds across the shingles—

WONDER as of old things Fresh and fair come back Hangs over pasture and road. Lush in the lowland grasses rise And upland beckons to upland.

ELSIE FLIMMERWON, you got a… The houses go wild when you finish… It is long ago, Elsie Flimmerwon,… It is long ago, Elsie, and now th… Then you were a little thing in ch…