Lifting brown hands with a desolate greed!
Spendthrift content in the dawn:
Squandered uncounted across the sky,
But into no purse will these winged coins fly!
The dawn is a resolute path
Of irresolute flight and dim half-tunes—
But I am a miser of hoarded Junes!
The dawn is dizzy with birds.
Sand-pipings
GULLS