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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=534896" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Phases</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I. <br>There’s a little square in Paris, <br>Waiting until we pass. <br>They sit idly there, <br>They sip the glass. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There’s a cab-horse at the corner, <br>There's rain. The season grieves. <br>It was silver once, <br>And green with leaves. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There’s a parrot in a window, <br>Will see us on parade, <br>Hear the loud drums roll— <br>And serenade. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">II. <br>This was the salty taste of glory, <br>That it was not <br>Like Agamemnon’s story. <br>Only, an eyeball in the mud, <br>And Hopkins, <br>Flat and pale and gory! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">III. <br>But the bugles, in the night, <br>Were wings that bore <br>To where our comfort was; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Arabesques of candle beams, <br>Winding <br>Through our heavy dreams; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Winds that blew <br>Where the bending iris grew; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Birds of intermitted bliss, <br>Singing in the night's abyss; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Vines with yellow fruit, <br>That fell <br>Along the walls <br>That bordered Hell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV. <br>Death's nobility again <br>Beautified the simplest men. <br>Fallen Winkle felt the pride <br>Of Agamemnon <br>When he died. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What could London’s <br>Work and waste <br>Give him— <br>To that salty, sacrificial taste? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What could London’s <br>Sorrow bring— <br>To that short, triumphant sting?</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=534896" data-title="Phases de Wallace Stevens" data-description="I. 
There’s a little square in Paris, 
Waiting until we pass. 
They sit idly there, 
They sip the glass. 

There’s a cab-horse at the corner, 
There's rain. The season grieves. 
It was silver once, 
And green with leaves. 

There’s a parrot ..."></div>
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