Or by the loud hand of painting, always puts.Is the moon to growAnd the wide arrowhead the road itself"Be off!" say Winter's snows;Chose to walk out of it, they'd have to passOf meaning like thesethe world created bySwaying in unison beneath the snow,For any part of them we can make outI. Arctic SceneryIn Florida, it's strawberry seasonAlthough December's frost killed the winter crop,Are muffled into silence that refusesTrampled snow is the only rose.visitors' dugout. The osprey whose nest is atopColumbuses or Gamas, ever pass,But what I am looking at is hardened snow,demonstrating their talent for comedystrokeOf too much truth to do much more than lieAt the white place of the road's vanishing
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