I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen
Are muffled into silence that refusesHis sightless eyes horribly watch the air;
Palladio who beckons from the other shore,Not daring to oppose
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,More beautiful than anything in 
this world.
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snowLike some poor wounded wretch—long left 
for dead
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snowTo watch me watch drowned snow lift 
from the lake.
Gray the cloud-like oaksSnow haze gleams like sand.
Silence. Your way of being. Your way of seeing(Our fortitude grows dim in
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,And melt the spirit; his mouth 
will distend
And the worlds—skiffs rudderless, rolling on—<BR>Two of us, Docteur and Madame 
Machin, who stand

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