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X. The British Attack on the Arctic
This drizzling three-day January thaw,
I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along
V. The Dutch in the Arctic
Escapees from the cold work of living,
A salamander scuttles across the quiet
How can they get the point of how a world
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
Only a whiter absence to my mind,
Through the back of the picture at the patch of white
Away from their profundity of surface.
Of observation lying on the ground
Glimmering of light:
Along the walls are only empty niches,
XIII. The Route to the North
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
XVII. Greenland
Escapees from the cold work of living,
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,