we muse on next week's movements.
Below, trees turn red.
(from the Song of the Bureaucrat, Vol III)
A cat prowls at night guarding their curv'd protector let the jungle speak (from songs of Old Castile)
. Let the Naiads sing Who will wear the Starry Crown? Then eat cake. (from The Paean of Dignity, 3d edn)
Caribbean Dreams waylay us in deep winter but the snow prevails (from Crepuscular Idyll)