A bBt of Verse for us Big Tree People

Discussions of Art, Literature, Music, and Aesthetics as they deal with Trees and Forests, and of the interrelationships between people and nature.

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A bBt of Verse for us Big Tree People

Post by gnmcmartin » Sun Mar 22, 2015 7:00 pm


A bit of verse for us big tree people. Here are two stanzas from Wallace Stevens' poem, Le Monocle de Mon Oncle:

In verses wild with motion, full of din,
Loudened by cries, by clashes, quick and sure
As the deadly thought of men accomplishing
Their curious fates in war, come, celebrate
The faith of forty, ward of Cupido.
Most venerable heart, the lustiest conceit
Is not too lusty for your broadening.
I quiz all sounds, all thoughts, all everything
For the music and manner of the paladins
To make oblation fit. Where shall I find
Bravura adequate to this great hymn?

The fops of fancy in their poems leave
Memorabilia of the mystic spouts,
Spontaneously watering their gritty soils.
I am a yeoman, as such fellows go.
I know no magic trees, no balmy boughs,
No silver-ruddy, gold-vermilion fruits.
But, after all, I know a tree that bears
A semblance to the thing I have in mind.
It stands gigantic, with a certain tip
To which all birds come sometime in their time.
But when they go that tip still tips the tree.


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