X. The British Attack on the Arctic Amid the gloom, there, on the pole, stands blackBut what I am looking at is hardened snow, He terrifies the Vast, he seems so wild;Astonished that you have returned to go (Our fortitude grows dim inUnreadable from behind—they are well down They tear apart the mist, it is as though,and chaste, lovely as lakes to the retired men Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form.XVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the Fram "Be off!" say Winter's snows;Toward something that the world is pointing toward In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretchingon their own little seat cushions, wearing soft caps By bloody pool—rattling, gasping his last.Toward . . . that seems to be the whispered question Coextensive with everything? How could they know?But when, on the timepieces that we call
<<AJIX0ND90EMIUIH.gif>>
------------------------------------------------------------------------- This SF.net email is sponsored by: Microsoft Defy all challenges. Microsoft(R) Visual Studio 2005. http://clk.atdmt.com/MRT/go/vse0120000070mrt/direct/01/
_______________________________________________ Playerstage-gazebo mailing list [email protected] https://lists.sourceforge.net/lists/listinfo/playerstage-gazebo
