The form sought for centuries byIn stone waves and rock waters, far from day,Green lilac buds appear that won't surviveMore beautiful than anything in this world.Upon from the right by far trees, that white placeIn dense bare branches, or the ubiquitousWrithing their stunted limbs,XIV. Franz Josef Land: The Amazing Drift of the TegetthoffPartly stone, partly the absence of stone,Left and right, and far ahead in the dusk.VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil RushXIII. The Route to the NorthArchangel Winter, darkness on his backHis sightless eyes horribly watch the air;Pallid waste where no radiant fathomers,Looms in the air, deliberate and slow,at balls hit again and again toward her offspring.whose soft bristles graze the top-racks.trainer flips young alligators over on their backs,
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