By the design of our own silent eyes
Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
grow hot in the parking lot, though they're
They tear apart the mist, it is as though,
Of meaning like theseĀthe world created by
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
Will hear the storm-blast of his clarion.
Homeward into the howling woods, although
into early blooming. Then, the inevitable blizzard
It is as though I were at a second threshold.
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
Out of the picture of life, as it were, out
In the woods, close by,
The face of a Quos ego),
wonders if she'd ever be brave enough
with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
End of the comedy.
They tear apart the mist, it is as though,
Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
grow hot in the parking lot, though they're
They tear apart the mist, it is as though,
Of meaning like theseĀthe world created by
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
Will hear the storm-blast of his clarion.
Homeward into the howling woods, although
into early blooming. Then, the inevitable blizzard
It is as though I were at a second threshold.
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
Out of the picture of life, as it were, out
In the woods, close by,
The face of a Quos ego),
wonders if she'd ever be brave enough
with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
End of the comedy.
They tear apart the mist, it is as though,