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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.

#Americans Modern

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Altre opere di 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
Six Significant Landscapes

An old man sits In the shadow of a pine tree In China. He sees larkspur, Blue and white,
Peter Quince at the Clavier

Just as my fingers on these keys Make music, so the self-same sound… On my spirit make a music, too. Music is feeling, then, not sound; And thus it is that what I feel,
To the Roaring Wind

What syllable are you seeking, Vocalissimus, In the distances of sleep? Speak it.
Tattoo

The light is like a spider. It crawls over the water. It crawls over the edges of the sn… It crawls under your eyelids And spreads its webs there—
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
Domination of Black

At night, by the fire, The colors of the bushes And of the fallen leaves, Repeating themselves, Turned in the room,
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…
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 River of Rivers in Connecticut

There is a great river this side o… Before one comes to the first blac… And trees that lack the intelligen… In that river, far this side of S… The mere flowing of the water is a…
Metaphors of a Magnifico

Twenty men crossing a bridge, Into a village, Are twenty men crossing twenty bri… Into twenty villages, Or one man
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.
Romance for a Demoiselle Lying in the Grass

It is grass. It is monotonous. The monotony Is like your port which conceals All your characters
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 Snow Man

One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with sno… And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged wit…



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