Quote #146

Like a page of music, like an upper air, Like a momentary color, in which swans Were seraphs, were saints, were changing essences. The west wind was the music, the motion, the force To which the swans curveted, a will to change, A will to make iris frettings on the blank.

More from Wallace Stevens

  1. He tries by a peculiar speech to speak The peculiar potency of the general
  2. The casual is not Enough. The freshness of transformation is The freshness of a world. It is our own, It is ourselves, the freshness of our…
  3. Is there a poem that never reaches words And one that chaffers the time away? Is the poem both peculiar and general? There's a meditation t…
  4. Of these beginnings, gay and green, propose The suitable amours. Time will write them down.
  5. The poem goes form the poet's gibberish to The gibberish of the vulgate and back again.
  6. To speak of joy and to sing of it, borne on The shoulders of joyous men, to feel the heart That is the common, the bravest fundament, This …
  7. A fictive covering Weaves always glistening from the heart and mind.
  8. The difficultest rigor is forthwith, On the image of what we see, to catch from that Irrational moment its unreasoning, As when the sun com…

All Wallace Stevens quotes