nothing and nothing...
Wallace Stevens
The Snow Man
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
*
My favorite Stevens’ piece –
13 comments:
Thanks for posting this, Sam. Isn't "The Snowman" one of the best Zen poems, ever written, even if Stevens had no idea what Zen was?
And the third stanza always, for me, attracts this haiku into its magnetic field (is it Basho or Buson?):
How admirable!
To see lightning and not
think life is fleeting.
Great connection James. For me, the essence of that bridge: the nothing that is not and is.
Thanks for posting this---also thanks for the haiku. (I think it's Buson but cannot verify).
This poem always makes me think of Hemingway's "A Clean Well-Lighted Place" (assuming that waiter ever went outside).
I think it's the repetition in the last two stanzas that is the chief beauty of this poem for me--especially the trinity of nothing, nothing, nothing , which is sort of like the base of the snowman:
One
same same
nothing nothing nothing
The haiku is Basho.
Pamela, your reading of Stevens' use of repetition is just right. The language -- sound and physical look on the page -- is so perfect in this poem.
"The Snow Man" should be in my anthology. I was saving that slot for a different poem, but I may not be able to help myself.
Sam, I love poetry that attempts to work with minimalist concepts – where nothing becomes everything and the canvas is both blank and full at the same time. This is a great piece of poetry and art. Thanks for sharing this!
this is lovely, sam — and wonderfully introspective. thanks for sharing!
happy holidays!
a.
Nothing becomes everything is a good descriptive for Stevens. Thanks Dennis and Arlene for your read.
The repetitions of sound, sound, sound and nothing, nothing, nothing at the poem's end have been tolling in my head all day like dolorous bells.
The line that refers to the same wind blowing in the same bare place brought this Frost poem to mind:
Desert Places
Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.
The woods around it have it--it is theirs.
All animals are smothered in their lairs.
I am too absent-spirited to count;
The loneliness includes me unawares.
And lonely as it is that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less--
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow
With no expression, nothing to express.
They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars--on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.
Snow (and winter) have always had the opposite effect on me. I always feel more alive when it's so cold it hurts to breathe and my skin seems to tighten on my body. A night muffled by falling snow has always reminded me of how close to god I am even though I don't believe.
I like Frost's poem Laurel. This may seem odd, but Frost does a better job with the word it than any poet I've ever read.
Two great lines: "A blanker whiteness of benighted snow /
With no expression, nothing to express."
Thanks for the read.
Liked the Frost connection, whom I like more than Stevens. Yet I never seem to find these down-to-earth poems of Stevens in anthologies or otherwise; it's always "Peter Quince at the Klavier" or "13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird," or "The Emperor or Ice Cream." Can you recommend a Stevens book that is as grounded as this poem?
I'm partial to Harmonium and The Auroras of Autumn. You might give either of those a try CE.
Thanks for the read Helen. A happy season to you as well.
This is the first piece by Stevens that I really got.
Must'a read a gizzillion times.
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