Wallace Stevens

A High-Toned Old Christian Woman – Wallace Stevens

A High-Toned Old Christian Woman – Wallace Stevens

Poetry is the supreme fiction, madame. Take the moral law and make a nave of it And from the nave build haunted heaven. Thus, The conscience is converted into palms, Like windy citherns hankering for hymns. We agree in principle. That’s clear. But take The opposing law and make a peristyle, An... »

Not Ideas About the Thing but the Thing Itself

Not Ideas About the Thing but the Thing Itself

Not Ideas About the Thing but the Thing Itself At the earliest ending of winter, In March, a scrawny cry from outside Seemed like a sound in his mind. He knew that he heard it, A bird’s cry, at daylight or before, In the early March wind. The sun was rising at six, No longer a battered panache... »