The Year of the Fox The year of the fox is upon us; Will there be no quiet stillness To pave the way to the leaves,
As forgetting glances? You with the blazing bar Of pother in the burnt hazel; For the soft wind breathing, To wrap in shadows, O HRipsime—this is the year, The hat that will keep; The tree that breaks away. The leaf that was there. This year,
Wrought with your hands.

• Ezra Pound