ChapterEight：Identity.docVIP

Chapter Eight：Identity Anecdote of the Jar By Stevens, Wallace 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. Ars Poetica ByMacLeish, Archibald A Poem should be palpable and mute As a globed fruit, Dumb As old medallions to thumb, Silent as the sleeve-worn stone Of casement ledges where the moss has grown— A Poem should be wordless As the flight of birds. A poem should be motionless in time As the moon climbs, Leaving, as the moon , releases Twig by twig the night-entangled trees, Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves, Memory by memory the mind— A poem should be motionless in time As the moon climbs. A poem should be equal to: Not true. For all the history of grief An empty doorway and maple leaf. For love The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea— A poem should not mean But be. Morning at the Window ByEliot, T. S. They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens, And along the trampled edges of the street I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids Sprouting despondently at area gates. The brown waves of fog toss up to me Twisted faces from the bottom of the street, And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts An aimless smile that hovers in the air And vanishes along the level of the roofs. (1933)