in that november off tehuantepec,
the slopping of the sea grew still one night
and in the morning summer hued the deck
and made one think of rosy chocolate
and gilt umbrellas. paradaisal green
gave suavity to the perplexed machine
of ocean, which like limpid water lay.
who, then, in that ambrosial latitude
out of the light evolved the moving blooms,
who, then, evolved the sea-blooms from the clouds
diffusing balm in that pacific calm?
c'etait mon enfant, mon bijou, mon ame.
the sea-clouds whitened far below the calm
and moved, as blooms move, in the swimming green
and in its watery radiance, while the hue
of heaven in an antique reflection rolled
round those flotillas. and sometimes the sea
poured brilliant iris on the glistening blue.
(from Stevens, Collected Poetry & Prose, 82-83)
* * * * *
I read somewhere in my perusings of words about Stevens, that the morning in question was very likely the morning after Stevens' daughter was conceived. Makes this poem very special, what?
It's very nice to re-read this on a midsummer's night, under the light of Jupiter.
I will not be posting the poem in its entirety, so if you wish to read more, please seek a volume of Stevens' work.