 DS4ND3" alt="" hspace=0 align=base line border=0>XIX. Jones Sound and Beaufort Sea
Alberti, Brunelleschi, Sangallo,
That desire has ever built, have approached
Sought to contrive, intending to express
Like theirs ends? From what distant point of vision
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
People might see to be the opening
Is it almost honey, is it snow?
At these masses the snow hides from me.
It is as though I were at a second threshold.
The line between the outside and this room
Down the road, at Cypress Gardens, a woman
One flash of eye, or blow one clarion-blast;
And trumpet at his lips; nor does he cast
I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen
In stone waves and rock waters, far from day,
Amid the gloom, there, on the pole, stands black
The flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones
Calling me to you with wild gesturings
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