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.

A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.

unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line

While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on

I feel the caress of my own finger… on my own neck as I place my colla… and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.

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

I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.

Oh strong—ridged and deeply hollow… nose of mine! what will you not be… What tactless asses we are, you an… always indiscriminate, always unas… and now it is the souring flowers…

Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of

The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow

You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich

From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor

Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and— In the tall, dried grasses