Against this sky no longer of our world.
Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
marked with a dark stroke from the left, encroached
At four, the spectators leave in pairs, off
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
What? What can you do?
Bronze the sky, with no
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
Of meaning like these the world created by
And still my mind goes groping in the mud to bring
Across the heavens' gray.
Introduction by Vilhjalmur Stefansson
The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,
That patch of white at the very end of the road
Your gloved hands covering your lips' good-bye
XVIII. The Northeast and Northwest Passages
Vilhjalmur Stefansson was an incredible man, exploring much and learning throughout his life.
While I have no idea if he wrote the above, (and can't find any reference to him crafting words in this way) seeing the spam led me to google him and end up reading about this person I never would have known about.
I love this about the internet.