Subject: Murray

From: "minnie henderson" <[email-masked]>
Date: Mon, 9 Apr 2007 23:53:16 +0800

Like an old soldier, wakeful, in his tent!
I might have happily lived some other childhood.
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
Silence. Your way of being. Your way of seeing
Palladio who beckons from the other shore,
Escapees from the cold work of living,
And off the white smoke swims
Over the chilly dale.
and turn it into something cartoon-funny.
Or else, like us, sunk into some long gaze
IV. The Paths to Cathay
Only a whiter absence to my mind,
And all at once it is the meadow I walked in at ten,
And the wide arrowhead the road itself
The winged winds, captives of that age-old foe
Point, after all, when finally one reaches
into early blooming. Then, the inevitable blizzard
Figures of light and dark, these two are walking
Lucky the bell珦till full and deep of throat,