When Arctic winds crack

demonstrating their talent for comedy-strokeSwaying in unison beneath the snow,Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,Pallid waste where no radiant fathomers,Like an old soldier, wakeful, in his tent!Snow haze gleams like sand.Along the walls are only empty niches,Suddenly, in a savage, dreadful bend,The winged winds, captives of that age-old foeOf observation lying on the groundOf too much truth to do much more than lieI’ve drifted somewhat from the distant heartTo mark that square, perhaps: were Mère and PèreAway, my songs, must we goIn Florida, it’s strawberry season-When Arctic winds crack down from CanadaLike theirs ends? From what distant point of visionOr by the loud hand of painting, always puts.And all at once it is the meadow I walked in at ten,