FIVE IV our touching hearts slenderly comprehend (clinging as finders,loving one another gradually into hands)and bend into the huge disaster of the year: like this most early single star which tugs weakly at twilight,caught in the thickening fear our slightly fingering spirits starve and smother; until autumn abruptly wholly hugs our dying silent minds,which hand in hand at some window try to understand the (through pale miles of perishing air,haunted with huddling infinite wishless melancholy, suddenly looming)accurate undaunted moon’s bright third tumblings slowly