Not Ideas About The Thing But The Thing Itself

At the earliest ending of winter,
In March, a scrawny cry from outside
Seemed like a sound in his mind.

He knew that he heard it,
A bird’s cry, at daylight or before,
In the early March wind.

The sun was rising at six,
No longer a battered panache above snow…
It would have been outside.

It was not from the vast ventriloquism
Of sleep’s faded papier-mâché…
The sun was coming from the outside.

That scrawny cry&mdasp;It was
A chorister whose c preceded the choir.
It was part of the colossal sun,

Surrounded by its choral rings,
Still far away. It was like
A new knowledge of reality.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Wallace Stevens's poem Not Ideas About The Thing But The Thing Itself

1 Comment

  1. danielle says:

    I am trying to do an English report and while I was reading this poem i have seen so many mistakes I think that you should edit this poem because people who need to use this wont be able to because they do not know what it is saying.

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