Of the Surface of Things


In my room, the world is beyond my understanding;

But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four hills


From my balcony, I survey the yellow air,

Reading where I have written,

“The spring is like a belle undressing.”


The gold tree is blue.

The singer has pulled his cloak over his head.

The moon is in the folds of the cloak.

Wallace Stevens, 1923

4 thoughts on “Harmonium, the book

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