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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=534891" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Looking Across the Fields and Watching the Birds Fly</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Among the more irritating minor ideas <br>Of Mr. Homburg during his visits home <br>To Concord, at the edge of things, was this: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To think away the grass, the trees, the clouds, <br>Not to transform them into other things, <br>Is only what the sun does every day, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Until we say to ourselves that there may be <br>A pensive nature, a mechanical <br>And slightly detestable operandum, free </div><div style="margin:10px 0">From man's ghost, larger and yet a little like, <br>Without his literature and without his gods . . . <br>No doubt we live beyond ourselves in air, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In an element that does not do for us, <br>so well, that which we do for ourselves, too big, <br>A thing not planned for imagery or belief, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not one of the masculine myths we used to make, <br>A transparency through which the swallow weaves, <br>Without any form or any sense of form, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What we know in what we see, what we feel in what <br>We hear, what we are, beyond mystic disputation, <br>In the tumult of integrations out of the sky, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And what we think, a breathing like the wind, <br>A moving part of a motion, a discovery <br>Part of a discovery, a change part of a change, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A sharing of color and being part of it. <br>The afternoon is visibly a source, <br>Too wide, too irised, to be more than calm, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too much like thinking to be less than thought, <br>Obscurest parent, obscurest patriarch, <br>A daily majesty of meditation, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That comes and goes in silences of its own. <br>We think, then as the sun shines or does not. <br>We think as wind skitters on a pond in a field </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or we put mantles on our words because <br>The same wind, rising and rising, makes a sound <br>Like the last muting of winter as it ends. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A new scholar replacing an older one reflects <br>A moment on this fantasia. He seeks <br>For a human that can be accounted for. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The spirit comes from the body of the world, <br>Or so Mr. Homburg thought: the body of a world <br>Whose blunt laws make an affectation of mind, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mannerism of nature caught in a glass <br>And there become a spirit's mannerism, <br>A glass aswarm with things going as far as they can.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wallace+Stevens">Wallace Stevens</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=534891" data-title="Looking Across the Fields and Watching the Birds Fly de Wallace Stevens" data-description="Among the more irritating minor ideas 
Of Mr. Homburg during his visits home 
To Concord, at the edge of things, was this: 

To think away the grass, the trees, the clouds, 
Not to transform them into other things, 
Is only what the sun does every..."></div>
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