A sunny day’s complete Poussiniana
Divide it from itself. It is this or that
And it is not.
By metaphor you paint
A thing. Thus, the pineapple was a leather fruit,
A fruit for pewter, thorned and palmed and blue,
To be served by men of ice.
The senses paint
By metaphor. The juice was fragranter
Than wettest cinnamon. It was cribled pears
Dripping a morning sap.
The truth must be
That you do not see, you experience, you feel,
That the buxom eye brings merely its element
To the total thing, a shapeless giant forced
Upward.
Green were the curls upon that head.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Wallace Stevens's poem Poem Written At Morning

3 Comments

  1. Miriam says:

    where are the metaphors?!

  2. Cheri Matthews says:

    well, i think your poem truely was interesting! i mean what gave u your idea? i mean wow! I don’t mean this in a good way,but i don’t mean it in a bad way.caught my attendtion i guess.

  3. daisy says:

    well, i think this poem definatevely comes from the heart and i think it pretty much means…to not let yourself down. to keep going. 🙂

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