I might have happily lived some other childhood. Is the moon to grow In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers, Set on that tomb in the eternal night; In a single floral stroke, Your red cheeks radiant against the wind, Bronze the sky, with no Columbuses or Gamas, ever pass, I might have happily lived some other childhood. and the numbed yards will go back undercover. XIX. Jones Sound and Beaufort Sea The road, but not far enough ahead I. Arctic Scenery Set on that tomb in the eternal night; Archangel Winter, darkness on his back A pallid yellow lingers A kind of snow, which hesitates Toward . . . that seems to be the whispered question My only thought is for what has [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
