My spirit lifts in you like a banner streaming free of hot walls.
You are full of unshaped dreams ...
You are laden with beginnings ...
There is hope in you ... not sweet ... acrid as blood in the mouth.
Come into my tossing dust
Scattering the peace of old deaths,
Wind rising out of the alleys
Carrying stuff of flame.
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens, of Hartford, Connecticut, is a poet whose peculiar quality is only exceeded by his reticence. He has scrupulously kept out of the public eye, has printed his poetry only at rare intervals and, though much of his work has been highly praised, has steadfastly refused to publish a volume.