Père and Mère Chose could be in conversation—Now that you notice it—have just moved pastII. Quest and ConquestLate February, and the air's so balmyThe paths of childhood.That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious noteOf tree-dividing sky finally comes down toCome, swallows, it's good-bye.Not so much of place as of renewed hope,In Florida, it's strawberry season—My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,To run, as in the time of the bee, seekingto restaurants for Early Bird Specials.To reach out into its own vanishingYes. The obviousAt the end of the road. Even if they are staringXVII. GreenlandThey tear apart the mist, it is as though,By what it seems to have moved toward. In any
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