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Wallace Stevens - The River Of Rivers In Connecticut

There is a great river this side of Stygia
Before one comes to the first black cataracts
And trees that lack the intelligence of trees.

In that river, far this side of Stygia,
The mere flowing of the water is a gayety,
Flashing and flashing in the sun. On its banks,

No shadow walks. The river is fateful,
Like the last one. But there is no ferryman.
He could not bend against its propelling force.

It is not to be seen beneath the appearances
That tell of it. The steeple at Farmington
Stands glistening and Haddam shines and sways.

It is the third commonness with light and air,
A curriculum, a vigor, a local abstraction . . .
Call it, one more, a river, an unnamed flowing,

Space-filled, reflecting the seasons, the folk-lore
Of each of the senses; call it, again and again,
The river that flows nowhere, like a sea.

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Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 510 times | Comments and analysis of The River Of Rivers In Connecticut by Wallace Stevens Comments (9)

The River Of Rivers In Connecticut - Comments and Information

Poet: Wallace Stevens
Poem: The River Of Rivers In Connecticut
Poem of the Day: Apr 10 2011

Comment 9 of 9, added on March 4th, 2017 at 9:46 AM.

eKIvSJ nonetheless, you command get bought an edginess over

mike tyson from Kenya
Comment 8 of 9, added on January 1st, 2016 at 4:02 PM.


SpECUKFGdnBBiC from Dominican Republic
Comment 7 of 9, added on January 1st, 2016 at 11:03 AM.


MvBcyuxmpV from United States

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