poem of the week: debris of life and mind
Sep. 17th, 2006 12:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ontologySo, I got this Wallace Stevens collection from the library. It is very pretty, hardcover, bound in night-blue, with one of those ribbon bookmarks that are very useful and attractive. I haven't been reading much, because I was frantically reading my more plot-oriented library books, and poetry is something I read in a rather different way from other things. Oh, I've found some real lovelies--but at the moment, this one is my favourite. Especially because my mind cried 'Remus!!' very loudly once I'd finished. (And, yes, of course, it will insist on being fic eventually. I mean, look, the title is perfect.)
In other news, I miss iTunes a bloody lot. I want to burn myself autumny mix albums.
Debris of Life and Mind
Wallace Stevens
There is so little that is close and warm.
It is as if we were never children.
Sit in the room. It is true in the moonlight
That it is as if we had never been young.
We ought not to be awake. It is from this
That a bright red woman will be rising
And, standing in violent golds, will brush her hair.
She will speak thoughtfully the words of a line.
She will think about them not quite able to sing.
Besides, when the sky is blue, things sing themselves,
Even for her, already for her. She will listen
And feel that her colour is a meditation,
The most gay and yet not so gay as it was.
Stay here. Speak of familiar things for a while.
Wallace Stevens
There is so little that is close and warm.
It is as if we were never children.
Sit in the room. It is true in the moonlight
That it is as if we had never been young.
We ought not to be awake. It is from this
That a bright red woman will be rising
And, standing in violent golds, will brush her hair.
She will speak thoughtfully the words of a line.
She will think about them not quite able to sing.
Besides, when the sky is blue, things sing themselves,
Even for her, already for her. She will listen
And feel that her colour is a meditation,
The most gay and yet not so gay as it was.
Stay here. Speak of familiar things for a while.
In other news, I miss iTunes a bloody lot. I want to burn myself autumny mix albums.
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no subject
Date: 2006-09-17 05:31 am (UTC)*must read much more Wallace Stevens*
(I really must see if I can check out books from my uni library. There was An Incident 2nd year and I'm not sure how they'd feel about it...)
no subject
Date: 2006-09-17 01:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-17 03:38 pm (UTC)Ooh, and guess what I have? A 1901 edition of...I don't remember what the title was, actually. But it's a poetry book. Got it free from Calli's house with a bunch of other books.