Why make so much of fragmentary bl
In here and there a bird, or butte
Or flower, or wearing—stone, or op
When heaven presents in sheets the
Since earth is earth, perhaps, not

The witch that came (the withered
To wash the steps with pail and ra
Was once the beauty Abishag,
The picture pride of Hollywood.
Too many fall from great and good

There were three in the meadow by
Gathering up windrows, piling hayc
With an eye always lifted toward t
Where an irregular, sun-bordered c
Darkly advanced with a perpetual d

Snow falling and night falling fas
In a field I looked into going pa
And the ground almost covered smoo
But a few weeds and stubble showin
The woods around it have it—it is

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart

THE BUZZ-SAW snarled and ratt
And made dust and dropped stove-le
Sweet-scented stuff when the breez
And from there those that lifted e
Five mountain ranges one behind th

The great Overdog
That heavenly beast
With a star in one eye
Gives a leap in the east.
He dances upright

To drive Paul out of any lumber c
All that was needed was to say to
‘How is the wife, Paul?’- and he’
Some said it was because be bad no
And hated to be twitted on the sub

If heaven were to do again,
And on the pasture bars,
I leaned to line the figures in
Between the dotted stars,
I should be tempted to forget,

Seek not in me the big I capital,
Not yet the little dotted in me se
If I have in me any I at all,
'Tis the iota subscript of the Gr
So small am I as an attention beg