PART ONE …
Anne Winters
After three months, Virginia is still a frontier. …
Fleeing his clubs, dull honors, wives, the ageing Hardy …
All seas are seas in the moon to these …
Through the meridian’s fine blue hairlines, the admirals are converging …
Sparrows tapping your shutters louvres? snow owls …
All middle age invisible to us, all age …
Four-fifty. The palings of Trinity Church …
ONE …
Now the god of rainy August hangs his mask …
It opens as a long lamplit evening …