In Wallace Steven's, from time to time we glimpse the poet roaring back at the beauty of nature as if the poetic voice was its own force...perhaps the force that in some way bestows beauty on the world. It is interesting to hear a voice grow tired of it all. The process, the same old voice and the same old subjects.
In Wallace Steven's, from time to time we glimpse the poet roaring back at the beauty of nature as if the poetic voice was its own force...perhaps the force that in some way bestows beauty on the world. It is interesting to hear a voice grow tired of it all. The process, the same old voice and the same old subjects.
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