Wallace Stevens(1879–1955)
A Room on a Garden
O stagnant east-wind, palsied mare,
Giddap! The ruby roses' hair
Must blow.
Behold how order is the end
Of everything. The roses bend
As one.
Order, the law of hoes and rakes,
May be perceived in windy quakes
And squalls.
The gardener searches earth and sky
The truth in nature to espy
In vain.
He well might find that eager balm
In lilies' stately-statued calm;
But then
He well might find it in this fret
Of lilies rusted, rotting, wet
With rain.
ca. 19351957