Parading

Someone has closed a door —

Love, love, the clouds went up the tower of the sky

Saddled but riderless, reins dragging on the pavement,

What old December’s bareness everywhere!

a kind of filler / made either

The cost of flight is landing.

And in the dream

Awake! Give thyself to the lovely hours.

Some sleet fell

We turned our backs against the bitter wind,