Trees Trees, proud standing people stretching fingertips to the sky, reaching, praying glorious attention, breathing light. strength shelter timeless confidence bending and… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
It is easy to suppose that few people realize on that occasion, which comes to all of us, when we look at… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The old brown hen and the old blue sky, Between the two we live and die The broken cartwheel on the hill. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
In the same way, you were happy in spring, With the half colors of quarter-things, The slightly brighter sky, the melting clouds,… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The leaves hop, scraping on the ground. It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The consolations of space are nameless things. It was after the neurosis of winter. It was In the genius of summer that… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
She says, "But in contentment I still feel The need for imperishable bliss." Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The muddy rivers of spring Are snarling Under the muddy skies. The mind is muddy. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Poet, patting more nonsense foamed From the sea, conceive for thecourts Of these academies, the diviner health Disclosed in common forms. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The way through the world is more difficult to find than the way beyond it. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The magnificent cause of being, The imagination, the one reality In this imagined world — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Music falls on the silence like a sense / A passion that we feel, not understand. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The life of the city never lets you go, nor do you ever want it to. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
After a lustre of the moon, we say We have not the need of any paradise, We have not the need of any seducing… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
“We live in an old chaos of the sun, Or old dependency of day and night, Or island solitude, unsponsored, free, Of that wide… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
“Lunar Paraphrase" The moon is the mother of pathos and pity. When, at the wearier end of November, Her old light moves along the… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
“The stars are putting on their glittering belts, They throw around their shoulders cloaks that flash Like a great shadow's last embellishment” — wallace stevens Copy Share Image
Unfortunately there is nothing more inane than an Easter carol. It is a religious perversion of the activity of Spring in our blood. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
