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 […]

As the immense dew of Florida Brings forth The big-finned palm And green vine angering for life, As the immense […]

She sang beyond the genius of the sea. The water never formed to mind or voice, Like a body wholly […]

One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; […]

Among the more irritating minor ideas Of Mr. Homburg during his visits home To Concord, at the edge of things, […]

The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book; and summer night Was like the […]

After the final no there comes a yes And on that yes the future world depends. No was the night. […]

Ariel was glad he had written his poems. They were of a remembered time Or of something seen that he […]

The old brown hen and the old blue sky, Between the two we live and die The broken cartwheel on […]

At the earliest ending of winter, In March, a scrawny cry from outside Seemed like a sound in his mind. […]

I placed a jar in Tennessee, And round it was, upon a hill. It made the slovenly wilderness Surround that […]

A sunny day’s complete Poussiniana Divide it from itself. It is this or that And it is not. By metaphor […]

One’s grand flights, one’s Sunday baths, One’s tootings at the weddings of the soul Occur as they occur. So bluish […]

I An old man sits In the shadow of a pine tree In China. He sees larkspur, Blue and white, […]

The poem of the mind in the act of finding What will suffice. It has not always had To find: […]

Twenty men crossing a bridge, Into a village, Are twenty men crossing twenty bridges, Into twenty villages, Or one man […]