Poeticous Logo
it
English Español Français Italiano
Wallace Stevens

Wallace Stevens

Of the Surface of Things

I

 
In my room, the world is beyond my understanding;
But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four
       hills and a cloud.
 

II

 
From my balcony, I survey the yellow air,
Reading where I have written,
“The spring is like a belle undressing.”
 

III

 
The gold tree is blue,
The singer has pulled his cloak over his head.
The moon is in the folds of the cloak.

#Americans Modern

Ti è piaciuta questa lettura? Offriteci un caffè!.
Il tuo aiuto ci permette di esistere.
Altre opere di Wallace Stevens...
Anecdote of the Jar

I placed a jar in Tennessee, And round it was, upon a hill. It made the slovenly wilderness Surround that hill. The wilderness rose up to it,
Of Modern Poetry

The poem of the mind in the act of… What will suffice. It has not alw… To find: the scene was set; it rep… Was in the script. Then the theatre was changed
The Sense of the Sleight-Of-Hand Man

One’s grand flights, one’s Sunday… One’s tootings at the weddings of… Occur as they occur. So bluish cl… Occurred above the empty house and… Of the rhododendrons rattled their…
Poetry Is a Destructive Force

That’s what misery is, Nothing to have at heart. It is to have or nothing. It is a thing to have, A lion, an ox in his breast,
 1
Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour

Light the first light of evening,… In which we rest and, for small re… The world imagined is the ultimate… This is, therefore, the intensest… It is in that thought that we coll…
So-And-So Reclining on Her Couch

On her side, reclining on her elbo… This mechanism, this apparition, Suppose we call it Projection A. She floats in air at the level of The eye, completely anonymous,
The Man Whose Pharynx Was Bad

The time of year has grown indiffe… Mildew of summer and the deepening… Are both alike in the routine I k… I am too dumbly in my being pent. The wind attendant on the solstice…
Six Significant Landscapes

An old man sits In the shadow of a pine tree In China. He sees larkspur, Blue and white,
The Well Dressed Man With a Beard

After the final no there comes a y… And on that yes the future world d… No was the night. Yes is this pre… If the rejected things, the things… Slid over the western cataract, ye…
Looking Across the Fields and Watching the Birds Fly

Among the more irritating minor id… Of Mr. Homburg during his visits… To Concord, at the edge of things… To think away the grass, the trees… Not to transform them into other t…
The High-Toned Old Christian Woman

Poetry is the supreme fiction, mad… Take the moral law and make a nave… And from the nave build haunted he… The conscience is converted into p… Like windy citherns hankering for…
Hymn from a Watermelon Pavilion

You dweller in the dark cabin, To whom the watermelon is always p… Whose garden is wind and moon, Of the two dreams, night and day, What lover, what dreamer, would ch…
Le Monocle de Mon Oncle

“Mother of heaven, regina of the c… O sceptre of the sun, crown of the… There is not nothing, no, no, neve… Like the clashed edges of two word… And so I mocked her in magnificen…
Poem Written at Morning

A sunny day’s complete Poussinian… Divide it from itself. It is this… And it is not. By metaphor you paint A thing. Thus, the pineapple was…
A Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock

The houses are haunted By white night-gowns. None are green, Or purple with green rings, Or green with yellow rings,



Alto