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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Wallace Stevens

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

From the Misery of Don Joost

Wallace Stevens

From “Sur Ma Guzzla Gracile”

I HAVE finished my combat with the sun;

And my body, the old animal,

Knows nothing more.

The powerful seasons bred and killed,

And were themselves the genii

Of their own ends.

Oh, but the very self of the storm

Of sun and slaves, breeding and death,

The old animal—

The senses and feeling, the very sound

And sight, and all there was of the storm—

Knows nothing more.