By Wallace Stevens
I placed a jar in Tennessee,
And round it was, upon a hill.
It made the slovenly wilderness
Surround that hill.
The wilderness rose up to it,
And sprawled around, no longer wild.
The jar was round upon the ground
And tall and of a port in air.
It took dominion everywhere.
The jar was gray and bare.
It did not give of bird or bush,
Like nothing else in Tennessee.
Source: Collected Poems (Alfred A. Knopf, 1954)
Poet Bio
More By This Poet
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are...
The Emperor of Ice-Cream
Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bidbid Command, order, direct him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent concupiscent Sensual, desirous curds.
Let the wenches wenches Girls dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers...