Oh you builders,
And the worldsskiffs rudderless, rolling on
>From there. Toward . . .
In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching
And I would like
on their own little seat cushions, wearing soft caps
III. Chronology of Northern Exploration
The weight of being born into exile is lifted.
to try that, to hold a terrifying beast
Where does this all end? What is the vanishing
This third day of our January thaw,
Dreaming time has reversedand you,
More beautiful than anything in this world.
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
Amid the gloom, there, on the pole, stands black
Want anything said at all, which I still doubt)
the old men burnish stories of Yaz and the Babe
With its lament, it often sounds, instead,
XVIII. The Northeast and Northwest Passages
And the worldsskiffs rudderless, rolling on
>From there. Toward . . .
In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching
And I would like
on their own little seat cushions, wearing soft caps
III. Chronology of Northern Exploration
The weight of being born into exile is lifted.
to try that, to hold a terrifying beast
Where does this all end? What is the vanishing
This third day of our January thaw,
Dreaming time has reversedand you,
More beautiful than anything in this world.
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
Amid the gloom, there, on the pole, stands black
Want anything said at all, which I still doubt)
the old men burnish stories of Yaz and the Babe
With its lament, it often sounds, instead,
XVIII. The Northeast and Northwest Passages