Poeticous Logo
en
English Español Français Italiano
Wallace Stevens

Wallace Stevens

Song

There are great things doing
In the world,
Little rabbit.
There is a damsel,
Sweeter than the sound of the willow,
Dearer than shallow water
Flowing over pebbles.
Of a Sunday,
She wears a long coat,
With twelve buttons on it.
Tell that to your mother.

#Americans Modern

1
Enjoyed this read? Treat us to a coffee!.
Your help allows us to exist.
Liked or faved by...
Other works by Wallace Stevens...
Depression Before Spring

The cock crows But no queen rises. The hair of my blonde Is dazzling, As the spittle of cows
 1
Infanta Marina

Her terrace was the sand And the palms and the twilight. She made of the motions of her wri… The grandiose gestures Of her thought.
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…
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…
Fabliau of Florida

Barque of phosphor On the palmy beach, Move outward into heaven, Into the alabasters And night blues.
The Idea of Order at Key West

She sang beyond the genius of the… The water never formed to mind or… Like a body wholly body, flutterin… Its empty sleeves; and yet its mim… Made constant cry, caused constant…
Not Ideas About the Thing But the Thing Itself

At the earliest ending of winter, In March, a scrawny cry from outs… Seemed like a sound in his mind. He knew that he heard it, A bird’s cry at daylight or before…
The Plot Against the Giant

First Girl When this yokel comes maundering, Whetting his hacker, I shall run before him, Diffusing the civilest odors
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 Emperor of Ice-Cream

Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds… Let the wenches dawdle in such dre… As they are used to wear, and let…
Bantams in Pine-Woods

Chieftain Iffucan of Azcan in caf… Of tan with henna hackles, halt! Damned universal cock, as if the s… Was blackamoor to bear your blazin… Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! I am the per…
What is Divinity

What is divinity if it can come Only in silent shadows and in drea… Shall she not find in comforts of… In pungent fruit and bright, green… In any balm or beauty of the earth…
Table Talk

Granted, we die for good. Life, then, is largely a thing Of happens to like, not should. And that, too, granted, why Do I happen to like red bush,
The Planet on the Table

Ariel was glad he had written his… They were of a remembered time Or of something seen that he liked… Other makings of the sun Were waste and welter
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird. I was of three minds, Like a tree



Top