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

Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest

In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…

It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for

Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…

Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang

This quiet morning light reflected, how many times from grass and tress and clouds enters my north room touching the walls with

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…

Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves

This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream