It was evening all afternoon. It was snowing And it was going to snow. The blackbird sat In the cedar-limbs.

I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms; But I know, too, That the blackbird is involved In what I know.

A few things for themselves, Florida, venereal soil, Disclose to the lover.

O thin men of Haddam, Why do you imagine golden birds? Do you not see how the blackbird Walks around the feet Of the women about you?

The summer skies are darkly blue, The days are still and bright, And Evening trails her robes of gold Through the dim halls of Night.

A cold coming they had of it, at this time of the year; just the worst time of the year to take a journey, and specially a long journey, in.

Cold, delicately as the dark snow, A fox's nose touches twig, leaf; Two eyes serve a movement, that now And again now, and now, and now Sets neat prints into t…