from: Enumerations

As simple an act
               I am dying, Egypt, dying:
as opening the eyes. Merely
               Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.
coming into things by degrees.
               The miserable change now at my end
Morning: some tear is broken
               Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts
on the wooden stairs
               In feeding them with those my former fortunes
of my lady's eyes. Profusions
               Wherein I lived, the greatest prince o' the world,
of green. The leaves. Their
               The noblest; and do now not basely die,
constant prehensions. Like old
               Not cowardly put off my helmet to
junkies on Sheridan Square, eyes
               My countryman,--a Roman by a Roman
cold and round. There is a song
               Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my spirit is going;
Nat Cole sings…This city
               I can no more.
& the intricate disorder
               of the seasons.