One flash of eye, or blow one clarion-blast;
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
A matter of getting all that right . .
I might have happily lived some other childhood.
And trumpet at his lips; nor does he cast
Would their world not remain comfortably
Toward something that the world is pointing toward
I might have happily lived some other childhood.
What can we know of whatever picture-plane
What? What can you do?
Seems reflected in the infinite of the lamps.
Only a whiter absence to my mind,
As if your human shape were what the storm
Unreadable from behind—they are well down
How can they get the point of how a world
snoozing. A schoolgirl on vacation gapes,
Are gliding toward me on the ice into
The bees are buzzing,
wonders if she'd ever be brave enough