Author: Wallace Stevens

My candle burned alone in an immense valley. Beams of the huge night converged upon it, Until the wind blew. […]

First Girl When this yokel comes maundering, Whetting his hacker, I shall run before him, Diffusing the civilest odors Out […]

1 Complacencies of the peignoir, and late Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair, And the green freedom of a […]

There is a great river this side of Stygia Before one comes to the first black cataracts And trees that […]

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

The difficulty to think at the end of day, When the shapeless shadow covers the sun And nothing is left […]

The light is like a spider. It crawls over the water. It crawls over the edges of the snow. It […]

There it was, word for word, The poem that took the place of a mountain. He breathed its oxygen, Even […]

Sister and mother and diviner love, And of the sisterhood of the living dead Most near, most clear, and of […]

I Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the black bird. II I was of […]

I Just as my fingers on these keys Make music, so the self-same sounds On my spirit make a music, […]

Poetry is the supreme fiction, madame. Take the moral law and make a nave of it And from the nave […]

Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds. Let the […]

At night, by the fire, The colors of the bushes And of the fallen leaves, Repeating themselves, Turned in the […]

Light the first light of evening, as in a room In which we rest and, for small reason, think The […]