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

All the complicated details
of the attiring and
the disattiring are completed!
A liquid moon
moves gently among

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

Again I reply to the triple winds
running chromatic fifths of derisi
outside my window:
Play louder.
You will not succeed. I am

O’—eh’—lee! La’—la!
Donna! Donna!
Blue is the sky of Palermo;
Blue is the little bay;
And dost thou remember the orange

The May sun—whom
all things imitate—
that glues small leaves to
the wooden trees
shone from the sky

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

They call me and I go.
It is a frozen road
past midnight, a dust
of snow caught
in the rigid wheeltracks.

Well, Lizzie Anderson! seventeen
the baby hard to find a father for
What will the good Father in Heav
to the local judge if he do not so
A little two-pointed smile and—pou

Her body is not so white as
anemone petals nor so smooth ——nor
so remote a thing. It is a field
of the wild carrot taking
the field by force; the grass