Creative Suite 3 Design

And I would like
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
"Be off!" say Winter's snows;
"Now it's my turn to sing!"
XXI. Flying in the Arctic
Of Boyg of Normandy . . .
Before those virile women!
Of too much truth to do much more than lie
on their own little seat cushions, wearing soft caps
Escapees from the cold work of living,
IX. After the Great Northern Expedition
XI. Franklin's Last Voyage
His sightless eyes horribly watch the air;
From there. Toward . . .
When I am heard, and what I say is solely
Life, or only joy, that stands out
And the worlds—skiffs rudderless, rolling on—
But snow has gathered there, has piled up,
The edge of that other square cut from the right