You like it under the trees in autumn,
\nBecause everything is half dead.
\nThe wind moves like a cripple among the leaves
\nAnd repeats words without meaning.<\/p>
In the same way, you were happy in spring,
\nWith the half colors of quarter-things,
\nThe slightly brighter sky, the melting clouds,
\nThe single bird, the obscure moon\u2014<\/p>
The obscure moon lighting an obscure world
\nOf things that would never be quite expressed,
\nWhere you yourself were never quite yourself
\nAnd did not want nor have to be,<\/p>
Desiring the exhilarations of changes:
\nThe motive for metaphor, shrinking from
\nThe weight of primary noon,
\nThe A B C of being,<\/p>
The ruddy temper, the hammer
\nOf red and blue, the hard sound\u2014
\nSteel against intimation\u2014the sharp flash,
\nThe vital, arrogant, fatal, dominant X.<\/p>
Wallace Stevens, 1879 – 1955<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
You like it under the trees in autumn, Because everything is half dead. The wind moves like a cripple among the leaves And repeats words without meaning.In the same way, you were happy in spring, With the half colors of … Continue reading