eaceoon in granada,

  eaceoon, a child dies.

  eaceoon ter sits down

  and cs s companions.

  the dead wear mossy wings.

  the clear wind

  are two ps in fligowers,

  and the day is a wounded boy.

  not a flicker of lark in the air

  he caves of wine.

  not t in the ground

  whe river.

  a giant of er fell dohe hills,

  and tumbling h lilies and dogs.

  in my shadow, your body,

  dead on the bank, was an angel of coldness.