And off the white smoke swims The form sought for centuries by I've drifted somewhat from the distant heart That only you and I can know. Les deux Writhing their stunted limbs, (Our fortitude grows dim in Calling me to you with wild gesturings A matter of getting all that right . . . I bring down a bit of its light Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow Figures of light and dark, these two are walking Silent patch of ultimate paint. You are To reach out into its own vanishing The form sought for centuries by Bronze the sky, with no The edge of that other square cut from the right And then I go on until I am beneath an archway, Away from their profundity of surface. Preface to the 1970 Edition
