Black against White; or, The Snow-Shoer; or, The Winter Cat.

The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain . . .
It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls
Down golden-windowed walls.

We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain,

We do not remember the red roots whence we rose,
But we know that we rose and walked, that after a while
We shall lie down again.

 

(The House of Dust, Conrad Aiken)

it was the way i saw wolves tracks

"it was not the hunting that led me there - it was the ice in my fur and the wind from the western mansion and the mist from the eastern lodge. it was the night's long lying."