One's grand flights, one's Sunday baths, <br />One's tootings at the weddings of the soul <br />Occur as they occur. So bluish clouds <br />Occurred above the empty house and the leaves <br />Of the rhododendrons rattled their gold, <br />As if someone lived there. Such floods of white <br />Came bursting from the clouds. So the wind <br />Threw its contorted strength around the sky. <br /> <br />Could you have said the bluejay suddenly <br />Would swoop to earth? It is a wheel, the rays <br />Around the sun. The wheel survives the myths. <br />The fire eye in the clouds survives the gods. <br />To think of a dove with an eye of grenadine <br />And pines that are cornets, so it occurs, <br />And a little island full of geese and stars: <br />It may be the ignorant man, alone, <br />Has any chance to mate his life with life <br />That is the sensual, pearly spuse, the life <br />That is fluent in even the wintriest bronze.<br /><br />Wallace Stevens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sense-of-the-sleight-of-hand-man/
