Today, recovering from influenza,
I begin, having nothing worse to do,
This autobiography that
what do pandas say?
as among the rocks they r
January jumps about
in the frying pan
trying to heat
his frozen feet
like a Canadian.
I looked into my heart to write
And found a desert there.
But when I looked again I heard
Not less light shall the gold and the green lie
On the cyclonic curl and diamonded eye, than
Most near, most dear, most loved and most far,
Under the window where I often found her
Most near, most dear, most loved, and most far,
Under the huge window where I often found her