Learn More

Wallace Stevens

(October 2, 1879 – August 2, 1955 / Pennsylvania / United States)

Comments about Wallace Stevens

Enter the verification code :

  • Rookie Richard Iordano (11/9/2009 3:47:00 AM)

    Hi The Library of America volume of Stevens' collected poetry and prose page 311 -312,4th stanza reads, ' Wanted to lean, wnated much most to be...' I thought it was a very weird line. I looked here and of course you have it differently.'...wanted most to be.
    There is a typo in the Library of America vol? Are there any more?
    thanks and let me know

    16 person liked.
    47 person did not like.
  • Rookie Richard Moores (5/15/2006 10:36:00 AM)

    You have a serious punctuation error in the first stanza of Sunday Morning.
    The line,
    'The day is like wide water, without sound.'
    should end in a comma, not a period. Thus:

    Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
    Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
    And the green freedom of a cockatoo
    Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
    The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.
    She dreams a little, and she feels the dark
    Encroachment of that old catastrophe,
    As a calm darkens among water-lights.
    The pungent oranges and bright, green wings
    Seem things in some procession of the dead,
    Winding across wide water, without sound.
    The day is like wide water, without sound,
    Stilled for the passing of her dreaming feet
    Over the seas, to silent Palestine,
    Dominion of the blood and sepulchre.

  • Rookie - 759 Points Lamont Palmer (2/1/2006 1:41:00 AM)

    Stevens is quite possibly the greatest poet of the 20th century. His neologistic and beautiful words defy the limitations of the concrete world and explores the depths of the imagination. And the fact that he led a very quiet, uneventful life in CT, while creating his gorgeous poetry makes him even more fascinating. I think his reclusive life strengthened his work, intensified it. If not the greatest poet of them all, he was certainly the purest. His influence will forever be felt.

Madame la Fleurie

Weight him down, O side-stars, with the great weightings of
the end.
Seal him there. He looked in a glass of the earth and thought
he lived in it.
Now, he brings all that he saw into the earth, to the waiting
parent.
His crisp knowledge is devoured by her, beneath a dew.


[Hata Bildir]