XXV
He held the world upon his nose
And this-a-way he gave a fling.
His robes and symbols, ai-yi-yi --
And that-a-way he twirled the thing.
Sombre as fir-trees, liquid cats
Moved in the grass without a sound.
They did not know the grass went round.
The cats had cats and the grass turned gray
And the world had worlds, ai, this-a-way:
The grass turned green and the grass turned gray.
And the nose is eternal, that-a-way.
Things as they were, things as they are,
Things as they will be by and by...
A fat thumb beats out ai-yi-yi.
---
Wallace Stevens
from The Man with the Blue Guitar, 1937
from The Man with the Blue Guitar, 1937
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