The old brown hen and the old blue sky,
Between the two we live and die--
The broken cartwheel on the hill.

As if, in the presence of the sea,
We dried our nets and mended sail
And talked of never-ending things,

Of the never-ending storm of will,
One will and many wills, and the wind,
Of many meanings in the leaves,

Brought down to one below the eaves,
Link, of that tempest, to the farm,
The chain of the turquoise hen and sky

And the wheel that broke as the cart went by.
It is not a voice that is under the eaves.
It is not speech, the sound we hear

In this conversation, but the sound
Of things and their motion: the other man,
A turquoise monster moving round.

Added: on February 23rd, 2006 at 8:00 AM | Viewed: 1079 times | Comments (1)

Poet: Wallace Stevens
Poem: Continual Conversation With A Silent Man

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Continual Conversation With A Silent Man, has received one comment so far. Click here to read it, and perhaps post a comment of your own. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Wallace Stevens with others on the American Poems poetry forum!