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Wallace Stevens

Wallace Stevens

Valley Candle

My candle burned alone in an immense valley.
Beams of the huge night converged upon it,
Until the wind blew.
The beams of the huge night
Converged upon its image,
Until the wind blew.

#AmericanWriters Modern

Altre opere di Wallace Stevens...
Contrary Theses (II)

One chemical afternoon in mid-autu… When the grand mechanics of earth… Even the leaves of the locust were… He walked with his year-old boy on… The sun shone and the dog barked a…
The Plain Sense of Things

After the leaves have fallen, we r… To a plain sense of things. It is… We had come to an end of the imagi… Inanimate in an inert savoir. It is difficult even to choose the…
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,
The Shape of the Coroner

It was the morn And the palms were waved And the brass was played Then the coroner came In his limpid shoes.
Two Figures in Dense Violet Light

I had as lief be embraced by the p… As to get no more from the moonlig… Than your moist hand. Be the voice of the night and Flo… Use dasky words and dusky images.
Farewell to Florida

Go on, high ship, since now, upon… The snake has left its skin upon t… Key West sank downward under mass… And silvers and greens spread over… Is at the mast-head and the past i…
Tea at the Palaz of Hoon

Not less because in purple I desc… The western day through what you c… The loneliest air, not less was I… What was the ointment sprinkled on… What were the hymns that buzzed be…
 1
A Postcard From the Volcano

Children picking up our bones Will never know that these were on… As quick as foxes on the hill; And that in autumn, when the grape… Made sharp air sharper by their sm…
The Poem That Took the Place of a Mountain

There it was, word for word, The poem that took the place of a… He breathed its oxygen, Even when the book lay turned in t… It reminded him how he had needed
 1
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…
Of the Surface of Things

In my room, the world is beyond my… But when I walk I see that it con… hills and a cloud. From my balcony, I survey the yel… Reading where I have written,
 2
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…
Another Weeping Woman

Pour the unhappiness out From your too bitter heart, Which grieving will not sweeten. Poison grows in this dark. It is in the water of tears
The Plot Against the Giant

First Girl When this yokel comes maundering, Whetting his hacker, I shall run before him, Diffusing the civilest odors
Depression Before Spring

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



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