Yes. The obvious
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
How can they get the point of how a world
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
Close at the end of distance the two Chose
Away from their profundity of surface.
Upon from the right by far trees, that white place
By trees—or might see as the masonry
Choces, Mère and Père, undreaming even of fields
marked with a dark stroke from the left, encroached
To pick up even the quickening of wind
This perfection, this absence.
And I would like
Toward something that the world is pointing toward
They tear apart the mist, it is as though,
But when, on the timepieces that we call
I know,
XI. Franklin's Last Voyage
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
How can they get the point of how a world
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
Close at the end of distance the two Chose
Away from their profundity of surface.
Upon from the right by far trees, that white place
By trees—or might see as the masonry
Choces, Mère and Père, undreaming even of fields
marked with a dark stroke from the left, encroached
To pick up even the quickening of wind
This perfection, this absence.
And I would like
Toward something that the world is pointing toward
They tear apart the mist, it is as though,
But when, on the timepieces that we call
I know,
XI. Franklin's Last Voyage
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
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