Of the Surface of Things
I In my room, the world is beyond my understanding; But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four hills and a cloud. II From my balcony, I survey the yellow air, Reading where I have written, "The spring is like a belle undressing." III The gold tree is blue, The singer has pulled his cloak over his head. The moon is in the folds of the cloak.
Credit
This poem is in the public domain.
Author
Wallace Stevens

Though he did not receive widespread recognition until late in his life, Wallace Stevens—whose work is known for its imagination, whimsy, and relation to both the English Romantics and French symbolists—is now considered one of the major American poets of the century.
Date Published: 1919-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/surface-things