Thursday, March 20, 2008

"Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour"

Do you remember the feeling the first time you saw the ocean, or looked out of the window of a plane? How about the first time you tasted something and it became your favorite food- or favorite wine? Or even more profoundly- do you remember the moment you fell in love?

This poem is amazing to me. It stirred up feelings and images I can barely describe-it made me think of the elderly couple I met at breakfast a few months made me long to be in a quiet place in the arms of a loved one. I read it, and read it, and read it again- and when I read it out loud- it was as if a spell was broken, or perhaps a spell was cast?
I had to share it~
Move over Dylan Thomas...Wallace Stevens has arrived :)

Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour

Light the first light of evening, as in a room
In which we rest and, for small reason, think
The world imagined is the ultimate good.

This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous.
It is in that thought that we collect ourselves,
Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:

Within a single thing, a single shawl
Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth,
A light, a power, the miraculous influence.

Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves.
We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole,
A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous.

Within its vital boundary, in the mind.
We say God and the imagination are one...
How high that highest candle lights the dark.

Out of this same light, out of the central mind,
We make a dwelling in the evening air,
In which being there together is enough.

Wallace Stevens


NYD said...

I wouldn't shove Mr. Thomas out of the way just yet, but I would have him scootch over to make some room for Wallace.

X. Dell said...

Not much for English language poetry, am I. But everyone's tastes is their own.

ThursdayNext said...

This poem is lovely, and I am a fan of Stevens. My favorite of his is "The Idea of Order at Key West."

Hope you are well, Cora...

Gnomeself Be True said...


darkfoam said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
h said...

I don't get poetry. It didn't even rhyme.

When the Poet was a Young Man.

I've never seen a Purple Cow.
I never hope to see one.
But I can tell you anyhow,
I'd rather see than be one.

Decades Later

Yes, I wrote the Purple Cow.
I'm sorry now I wrote it.
But I can tell you anyhow,
I'll kill you if you quote it.

The Phosgene Kid said...

Times like this I really wish I could read!!

Mayden' s Voyage said...

NYD- a scootch over...yes- that's all :) I can handle both poets- I think ;)

X-Dell~ yes- I guess so. I wish I knew another language well enough to be more partial to it than English- but sadly...I don't.

Amy- thank you :) I have not read "The Idea of Order at Key West"- but I will look it up next :) I hope you are well too~
hugs friend :)

Mr. Iamnot...I sent you an email :)
I hope we are still friends :) hugs-

Mr. Troll-
Let's leave the cow poetry to Robert Louis Stevenson...
His cow was red and white- and he loved her with all his heart-
and she gave milk with all her might- to drink with apple tart.
And while she wandered- here and there- wet with all the showers.
She walked among the meadow grass- and ate the meadow flowers.
I LOVE that poem...but seeing a purple cow would be fun :)

Foam- I never recover quickly from a true love- and Dylan remains fixed in my heart. However, as I have gotten older- it seems I have become somthing of a "tart" when it comes to poets...I always seem to have room for one more ;)

Phos- you sweet old I need to fly west and read to you?
lol- hugs...have a great weekend!

Enemy of the Republic said...

I love Wallace Stevens. Look up his poem called "Sunday Morning." It will blow you away. It is one of the greatest poems in the English language. It has actually made me cry.

Dylan Thomas was simply different; he responded to a separate muse. I find I've grown fonder of T.S. Eliot--I used to hate him, but now he speaks to me, particularly in "The Hollow Men" and "Journey of the Magi."

Happy Easter. Sorry I've been scarce.

boneman said...

hope your Ma's doing OK enough to be with.
Feel free to tell her ANY of my old jokes if you want to send her on her way....

dreamed I was a car muffler last night.
Wasn't bad, but, I woke up exhausted.

Get folks with pets to come visit WITH their's a proven fact it helps people lower their blood pressure and induces some kind of brain chemistry (endorphins?)
and, above all, don't forget my Ma's answer to whatever's ailing ya...
Chicken noodle soup and ritz crackers.

Nice bit of poetry there.
Say, since you were the prize before, does that mean you have a poetry bone somewhere in your body?

Oh, poetry lass....

Josh said...

That poem is fantastic - the imagery is so rich and has so much depth. You have most excellent taste, Ms. Cora. *stamp of approval*

Unknown said...

Listen UP! This poem was written wromg it goes like... Light the first light of the evening, as in a room, in which we rest..... That is not the right copy whoever posted it on this website. I t would not make sense if you left out "as in a room" because then the next part wont make sense. Wherre do the people rest? That was the first question that poped into my mind. This is my favorite poem so please fix it and dont ruin it again.

Mayden' s Voyage said...

I appreciate your letting me know the poem was incorrect, and I fixed it; however, in the future, if you see someone has made a mistake on their blog you might find others will respond a little better if you used a some tact when leaving a message.

Hope your day is as nice as you are.