Page:Harmonium - Wallace Stevens.djvu/134

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Or the beauty of innuendoes,The blackbird whistlingOr just after.
VIIcicles filled the long windowWith barbaric glass.The shadow of the blackbirdCrossed it, to and fro.The moodTraced in the shadowAn indecipherable cause.
VIIO thin men of Haddam,Why do you imagine golden birds?Do you not see how the blackbirdWalks around the feetOf the women about you?
VIIII know noble accentsAnd lucid, inescapable rhythms;But I know, too,That the blackbird is involvedIn what I know.
IXWhen the blackbird flew out of sight,It marked the edgeOf one of many circles.

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