And half-starved foxes shake and paw Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,Trampled snow is the only rose. In Florida, it's strawberry season—I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen Although December's frost killed the winter crop,and chaste, lovely as lakes to the retired men Are muffled into silence that refusesAt these masses the snow hides from me. And the wide arrowhead the road itselfWhen Arctic winds crack down from Canada grow hot in the parking lot, though they'reSilence. Your way of being. Your way of seeing XI. Franklin's Last VoyageWind, sleet. The branches sway, Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snowHe never even dreams, being sheer snow; Calling me to you with wild gesturingsA rabbit carcass in its stiffened fur.
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