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Quote by Wallace Stevens

“In the same way, you were happy in spring, With the half colors of quarter-things, The slightly brighter sky, the melting clouds, The single bird, the obscure moon- The obscure moon lighting an obscure world Of thing that would never be quite expressed, Where you yourself were never quite yourself And did not want nor have to be.”

Quote by Wallace Stevens

Work

The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens

This volume brings together a selection of Wallace Stevens' most celebrated poems, offering readers a deep dive into the intricate and thought-provoking world of this influential American poet. Stevens' work is known for its abstract and philosophical nature, often exploring themes of time, death, and the nature of reality. The collection reflects his distinctive voice and innovative approach to poetry, making it a cornerstone of modernist literature. more

Author

Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens

Wallace Stevens was an American poet known for his unique modernist style and philosophical reflections. His poetry often explores the connection between abstract concepts and everyday life, and is considered one of the most influential poets of the 20th century. more

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“Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o'daisies white Out o'er the grassy lea.”

“To the garden of the world anew descending, Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding, The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being, Curious here behold my resurrection after slumber, The revolving cycles in their wide sweep having brought me again, amorous, mature, all beautiful to me, all wondrous, My limbs and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for reasons, most wondrous, Existing I peer and penetrate still, Content with the present, content with the past, By my side or back of me Eve following, Or in front, and I following her just the same.”

“The thorn tree just began to bud And greening stained the sheltering hedge, An many a violet beside the wood Peeped blue between the withered sedge; The sun gleamed warm the bank beside, 'Twas pleasant wandering out a while Neath nestling bush to lonely hide, Or bend a musings o'er a stile.”

“The fields are snowbound no longer; There are little blue lakes and flags of tenderest green. The snow has been caught up into the sky- So many white clouds-and the blue of the sky is cold. Now the sun walks in the forest, He touches the bows and stems with his golden fingers; They shiver, and wake from slumber. Over the barren branches he shakes his yellow curls. Yet is the forest full of the sound of tears.... A wind dances over the fields. Shrill and clear the sound of her waking laughter, Yet the little blue lakes tremble And the flags of tenderest green bend and quiver.”