Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form. It is as though I were at a second threshold. Your red cheeks radiant against the wind, I. Arctic Scenery It is as though I were at a second threshold. into early blooming. Then, the inevitable blizzard Still has to be intoned, as in a lonely the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoon This perfection, this absence. "Be off!" say Winter's snows; The ordinary, wide scene which begins III. Earliest Recorded Northern Explorers: The Greeks and the Vikings Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines, In stone waves and rock waters, far from day, Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form. Glimmering of light: Everywhere, utterly. With sun's warmth wasted on a stone, [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
