Eaoon in Granada,

        eaoon, a child dies.

        Eaoon ter sits down

        and cs s panions.

        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 caverns 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 ess.
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