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XIX. Jones Sound and Beaufort Sea
XVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the Fram
and preening, dancing on the basepaths,
Green lilac buds appear that won't survive
Homeward into the howling woods, although
Like theirs ends? From what distant point of vision
Of too much truth to do much more than lie
Beneath the snowflakes I notice façades
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent—
Gray the cloud-like oaks
Set on that tomb in the eternal night;
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
Close at the end of distance the two Chose
The winter road from the St. Simeon farm
Some stubborn sprouts up through the stubble hay,
Oh you builders,
People might see to be the opening
Appear to lift up from the lake;
And the wide arrowhead the road itself