by Wallace Stevens (1879 - 1955)
Not ideas about the thing but the thing itself
Language: English
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-mache... The sun was coming from the outside. That scrawny cry--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.
Authorship:
- by Wallace Stevens (1879 - 1955), "Not ideas about the thing but the thing itself" [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Ned Rorem (1923 - 2022), "Not ideas about the thing but the thing itself", 1972, first performed 1972 [ soprano, cello, and piano ], from Last Poems of Wallace Stevens, no. 1 [sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2010-11-03
Line count: 18
Word count: 108