I looked out the window at dawn and saw a young apple treetranslucent in brightness
And when I looked out at dawn once again, an apple tree laden withfruit stood there
Many years had probably gone by but I remember nothing of whathappene...
Well, this is awful weather;
Storming with rain and snow
I sit at the window,
Into the darkness below
Up here, with June, the sycamore throws Across the window a whispering screen; I shall miss the sycamore more I suppose,
Than anything else on this earth that is out in green
But I mean to go through the door without fear, Not caring muc...
I said fate plays a game without a score,and who needs fish if you've got caviar
The triumph of the Gothic style would come to passand turn you on—no need for coke, or grass
I sit by the window
Outside, an aspen
Little Star, little Star,
Come down quick
The Moon is a bogey-man;
He'll eat you certain if he can
Lean out of the window,
Goldenhair,
I hear you singing A merry air
My book was closed,
you are my bread
and the hairline
noise
of my bones