I. Arctic Scenery
Of the matter of snow here. Both of us have grasped
At these masses the snow hides from me.
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
Against this sky no longer of our world.
Is the moon to grow
And all at once it is the meadow I walked in at ten,
XVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the Fram
That desire has ever built, have approached
Onto my frozen fingers.
Place of absorbing snow, itself to be
The weight of being born into exile is lifted.
Like an old soldier, wakeful, in his tent!