I placed a jar in Tennessee,
and round it was, upon a hill.
It made the slovenly wilderness
surround that hill.
The wilderness rose up to it,
and sprawled around, no longer wild.
The jar was round upon the ground
and tall and of a port in air.
It took dominion everywhere.
The jar was gray and bare.
It did not give of bird or bush,
Like nothing else in Tennessee.
(from Stevens, Collected Poetry & Prose, pp. 60-61)
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For some really fine commentaries on this poem, check out these links: scroll around this site out of New Zealand to find good short commentaries on this poem. And also, check out this article offered by the Modern American Poetry site.