Improvisations Light And Snow 11
As I walked through the lamplit gardens,
On the thin white crust of snow,
So intensely was I thinking of my misfortune,
So clearly were my eyes
As I walked through the lamplit gardens,
On the thin white crust of snow,
So intensely was I thinking of my misfortune,
So clearly were my eyes
I stood for a long while before the shop
Looking at the blue butterflies embroidered on tawny silk
The building was a tower before me,
Time was loud behind me,
No matter what life you leadthe virgin is a lovely number:cheeks as fragile as cigarette paper,arms and legs made of Limoges,lips like Vin Du Rhône,rolling her china-blue doll eyesopen and shut
Open to say,
Good Day Mama,and shut for the...
On the day when my uncle and I drove to the cemetery,
Rain rattled on the roof of the carriage;
And talkng constrainedly of this and
We refrained from looking at the child’s coffin on the seat before us
The day opens with the brown light of
And past the window snowflakes fall and fall
I sit in my chair all day and work and
Measuring words against each other
Outside the snowstorm spins, and
The world beneath a pall
Snowed under are the paper-girl,
The papers and the stall
White are the far-off plains, and
The fading forests grow;
The wind dies out along the height,
And denser still the snow,
Many things perplex me and leave me troubled,
Many things are locked away in the white book of
Never to be opened by me
The starr’d leaves are silently turned,
Like an old tree uprooted by the
And flung down
With roots bared to the sun and
And limp leaves brought to earth —Torn from its house —So do I seem to
It is night time, and cold, and snow is falling,
And no wind grieves the walls
In the small world of light around the arc-lampA swarm of snowflakes falls and falls
The street grows silent
No breath of wind,
No gleam of sun – Still the white
Whirls softly
Twig and
One must have a mind of
To regard the frost and the
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long