contend in a sea which the land pa… shielding them from the too—heavy… of an ungoverned ocean which when… tortures the biggest hulls, the be… to pit against its beatings, and s…

WHERE shall I find you— You, my grotesque fellows That I seek everywhere To make up my band? None, not one

A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was

THERE is a bird in the poplars— It is the sun! The leaves are little yellow fish Swimming in the river; The bird skims above them—

The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers

A day on the boulevards chosen out… student poverty! One best day out… Berket in high spirits—"Ha, orang… And he made to snatch an orange fr… Now so clever was the deception, s…

Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire

Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves or at best against treacherous

The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go

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

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which

My wife’s new pink slippers have gay pompons. There is not a spot or a stain on their satin toes or their sides… All night they lie together

Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.