Leila

I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen
In white, in paint too representative
IV. The Paths to Cathay
Chose to walk out of it, they'd have to pass
Unreadable from behind—they are well down
The purest form is always the one
Not daring to oppose
That square—Oh, 56 x 56
To pick up even the quickening of wind
Merely a mockery of spring
The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,
A frame of glided twilight—I
The line between the outside and this room
For any part of them we can make out
Unreadable from behind—they are well down
Swaying in unison beneath the snow,
Nor, indeed, the bit of paint itself can know of.
Of too much truth to do much more than lie
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,