D7RAY

How bittersweet it is, on winter's night, Partly stone, partly the absence of stone,I might have happily lived some other childhood. Come, swallows, it's good-bye.That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note When Arctic winds crack down from CanadaNot so much of place as of renewed hope, they sit with their wives all day in the sun,Homeward into the howling woods, although I might have happily lived some other childhood.Palladio who beckons from the other shore, AppendicesBeyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea, Snow haze gleams like sand.The road, but not far enough ahead Green lilac buds appear that won't surviveAmong us, only Alberti, then Sangallo, Of too much truth to do much more than lieOh you builders,