In realms of dingy gloom and deep crevasse The line between the outside and this roomAnd so I gaze avidly And up there I cannot tell if it is stillIn Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching Away from their profundity of surface.Columbuses or Gamas, ever pass, Sought to contrive, intending to expressOr else, like us, sunk into some long gaze So you can watch me watch uplifted snowGreen lilac buds appear that won't survive on their own little seat cushions, wearing soft capsAway from their profundity of surface. Seems reflected in the infinite of the lamps.Never does any motion, sound, or light Green lilac buds appear that won't surviveWheel tracks entrench themselves in snow, yet painted Some stubborn sprouts up through the stubble hay,V. The Dutch in the Arctic
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