Issue 29, Winter-Spring 1963
A queer mist stands from the sea today,
A queer color like the primary blue
Supposed but never limed in the environs
Of certain children. It slants all mute
Things toward their deepness.
The cypress darkens. The wafery city pales.
The Byzantine forts on the Hill
Grow young again, calm castellations of
Vague stony gold, squinting through ennui.