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Sunday Morning

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Khandro | 22:11 Tue 24th Mar 2020 | Arts & Literature
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Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
And the green freedom of a cockatoo
Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.
She dreams a little, and she feels the dark
Encroachment of that old catastrophe,
As a calm darkens among water-lights.
The pungent oranges and bright, green wings
Seem things in some procession of the dead,
Winding across wide water, without sound.
The day is like wide water, without sound,
Stilled for the passing of her dreaming feet
Over the seas, to silent Palestine,
Dominion of the blood and sepulchre.


cont. ...........

Wallace Stevens

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This initially brings a vividly coloured picture to mind . I will have to read it quite a few more times to get more from it.
But it is very evocative. Thanks Khandro.
Question Author
Rosie; It is only the first stanza (as I indicated) of a longer poem, one of my life-long favourites.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/13261/sunday-morning
Thank you for sharing Khandro, I like poetry.
Question Author
Rosie; I just read it through, for the thousand's time again, & I think it is one of the greatest poems of the English language.
I hope to give it some time. We've all got plenty of that on our hands now.

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