A stanza from Wallace Stevens I want to share

I'll post my poem later today, but I couldn't resist this stanza from Wallace Stevens. It's from his poem, "Variations on a Summer Day" and it captures, I think, the essence of this gorgeous September day in Plymouth, MA., and what it will be like this evening under the Corn Moon.

XI

Now, the timothy at Pemaquid
That rolled in heat is silver-tipped
And cold. The moon follows the sun like a French
Translation of a Russian poet.

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