From those days on, a harsh October flew
Leaf-crushing ice through the park's fulvous core:
And throats are seiz'd and broken elbows sore
When each flight's end was forg'd each daybreak new.
The fogs have died. Forgotten is the gloom.
For hours 'twas dark; yet every eve there gazed
A sickly skyline, in the heat unfazed,
In fever and catarrh, on courtyards' bloom.
But blood did freeze. Yet it appeared that ponds
Would not freeze. Yet it seemed – late weather meant –
That days would not move, yet a firmament,
Like limpid sound, was from the world now gone.
And there began a gaze so distant; hard
Was it to breathe, to see so painful; such
Peace did spread, uninhabited as much
As resonant, forgetful peace unmarred.