Lucky the bell—still full and deep

Lucky the bell-still full and deep of throat,
Like some poor wounded wretch-long left for dead
He terrifies the Vast, he seems so wild;
Glimmering of light:
Bronze the sky, with no
Come, swallows, it’s good-bye.
Seized from creation by nonentity,
Where does this all end? What is the vanishing
With its lament, it often sounds, instead,
In search of brighter green to come. No way!
IV. The Paths to Cathay
High on this surface, guarding the edge of Père
Père and Mère Chose could be in conversation
A kind of snow, which hesitates
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
II. List of Franklin Search Parties
Life, or only joy, that stands out
Billows the fog, cloaks
Merely a mockery of spring