Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour
Light the first light of evening, as in a room
In which we rest and, for small reason, think
The world imagined is the ultimate good.
This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous.
It is in that thought that we collect ourselves,
Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:
Within a single thing, a single shawl
Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth,
A light, a power, the miraculous influence.
Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves.
We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole,
A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous.
Within its vital boundary, in the mind.
We say God and the imagination are one...
How high that highest candle lights the dark.
Out of this same light, out of the central mind,
We make a dwelling in the evening air,
In which being there together is enough.
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Comments about this poem (Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour by Wallace Stevens )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Gordon D Wilkinson
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(27 December 1797 – 15 February 1869)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 March 1934 – 31 May 2009)
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