In stone waves and rock waters, far from day,
By bloody pool—rattling, gasping his last.IX. After the Great Northern Expedition
I know,Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
Between the vertex that the far-lit grayXVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the Fram
His sightless eyes horribly watch the air;By bloody pool—rattling, gasping his last.
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,So, startled, quivering,
Suddenly, in a savage, dreadful bend,Rise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,Alberti, Brunelleschi, Sangallo,
Figures of light and dark, these two are walkingAnd then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneouslyThe flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones
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