In Florida, it's strawberry season—
What is there in the depths of these walls
Escapees from the cold work of living,
And I would like
III. Chronology of Northern Exploration
Trampled snow is the only rose.
Cuts out of its width (81). Unfair
And trumpet at his lips; nor does he cast
Close at the end of distance the two Chose
I do not betray you, I still go forward,
Seen. What you know is only manifest
Event, the end of the painted road ends up
Green lilac buds appear that won't survive
I know,
Two of us, Docteur and Madame Machin, who stand
The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
Billows the fog, cloaks
Allowing me to let your picture form and wake