Brush the lone giant in that somber pall.
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
demonstrating their talent for comedystroke
The snowflakes are swirling, blotting out
So, startled, quivering,
This perfection, this absence.
XVII. Greenland
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
Like theirs ends? From what distant point of vision
V. The Dutch in the Arctic
Unreadable from behindthey are well down
XIII. The Route to the North
In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitous
Stunned in their voiceless way to be alive
Figures of light and dark, these two are walking
Now that you notice ithave just moved past
Pealing, it tries to fill the cold night air
XX. To the Pole
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
demonstrating their talent for comedystroke
The snowflakes are swirling, blotting out
So, startled, quivering,
This perfection, this absence.
XVII. Greenland
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
Like theirs ends? From what distant point of vision
V. The Dutch in the Arctic
Unreadable from behindthey are well down
XIII. The Route to the North
In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitous
Stunned in their voiceless way to be alive
Figures of light and dark, these two are walking
Now that you notice ithave just moved past
Pealing, it tries to fill the cold night air
XX. To the Pole