Neiges Fondantes
Seen on the whimpering screen the white ruff a tongue wags out numbered
by snow til death the sorghum tree Theodore Fontane he left a print
on the old regime.

Cord of wood outside the Mosque two by two and warmed the flakes elude
the vizier's guard we watch the blue dim scarlet touch the angel mouth a
freeze would do us a clasp my arm hear the chariots pass

Neiges fondantes 'melting snow' is this isle a sham bay view a leaf Lago
di Garda the flowery sun I thought of the giant ribbon tree festooned a little
masque we attend.

That day at Chichester in the melt a half-hour for the Cathedral medieval
chill he clad in lightest wool The Eve oj St Agnes inside his cap.

Willy nilly the stone barn lost its top a flotilla of snow mice
they're draining the stoat how dare they sleeveless warm go hosting
in a timberless cairn Hark!
...