#56--My Tree--Out of the Warmth of Spring

Out of the first warmth of spring,

And out of the shine of the menlocks,

Among the bare and crooked trees,

She found a helping from the cold,

Like a meaning in nothingness....

- Wallace Stevens

#31 My Tree--Under A Cloudy Sky

The poem goes from the poet’s gibberish to

The gibberish of the vulgate and back again.

Does it move to and fro or is it of both

At once? Is it a luminous flittering

Or the concentration of a cloudy day?

- Wallace Stevens