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The ordinary, wide scene which begins
My keyhole blows a galeAnd the wide arrowhead the road itself
Merely a mockery of springStill has to be intoned, as in a lonely
The form sought for centuries bySo you can watch me watch uplifted snow
So you can watch me watch uplifted snowBut what I am looking at is hardened snow,
Bronze the sky, with noXX. To the Pole
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,And beyond, the same sound of bees
Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
Side of the painting, the world of that wise, white,Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
and the numbed yards will go back undercover.This gap in time, this season not their own,

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