Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevenswas an American Modernist poet. He was born in Reading, Pennsylvania, educated at Harvard and then New York Law School, and he spent most of his life working as an executive for an insurance company in Hartford, Connecticut. He won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry for his Collected Poems in 1955...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth2 October 1879
CountryUnited States of America
lakes wind tree
The wind had seized the tree and ha, and ha, It held the shivering, the shaken limbs, Then bathed its body in the leaping lake.
summer girl moving
Fat girl, terrestrial, my summer, my night, How is it I find you in difference, see you there In a moving contour, a change not quite completed? You are familiar yet an aberration.
freedom hate air
Spread outward. Crack the round dome. Break through. Have liberty not as the air within a grave Or down a well. Breathe freedom, oh, my native, In the space of horizons that neither love nor hate.
wings poetry darkness
At evening casual flocks of pigeons make Ambiguous undulations as they sink Downward to darkness, on extended wings.
winter ice sky
The leaves hop, scraping on the ground. It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice. It is in this solitude, a syllable, Out of these gawky flitterings, Intones its single emptiness, The savagest hollow of winter-sound.
political poetic economic
All the great things have been denied and we live in an intricacy of new and local mythologies, political, economic, poetic, which are asserted with an ever-enlarging incoherence.
philosophy science philosopher
Perhaps it is of more value to infuriate philosophers than to go along with them.
feelings emotion sentimentality
Sentimentality is a failure of feeling.
littles hard visible
Make the visible a little hard to see.
rose soldier red
How red the rose that is the soldier
perception mind essentials
Poetry has to be something more than a conception of the mind. It has to be a revelation of nature. Conceptions are artificial. Perceptions are essential.
writing night doors
...after a night spent writing poetry, one is almost happy to hear the milkman at the door.
religion spirit spirituality
It must be this rhapsody or none, The rhapsody of things as they are.
religious religion church
An old argument with me is that the true religious force in the world is not the church, but the world itself: the mysterious callings of Nature and our responses.