I saw the spiders marching through the air,Swimming from tree to tree that mildewed dayIn latter August when the hayCame creaking to the barn. Lord Weary's Castle (1946)
Once fishing was a rabbit's foot—O wind blow cold, O wind blow hot,Let suns stay in or suns step out:Life danced a jig on the sperm-whale's spout—The fisher's fluent and obsceneCatches kept his conscience clean. Lord Weary's Castle (1946)