Poetry · Collection · Classic · Modernism · American Literature · American Culture

Wallace Stevens

Peter Quince at the Clavier                                           I Just as my fingers on these keys Make music, so the selfsame sounds On my spirit make a music, too. Music is feeling, then, not sound; And thus it is that what I feel, Here in this room, desiring you, Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk, Is music. It… Continue reading Wallace Stevens

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