Print

Print


--part1_7d.1651b9ce.2856a4cd_boundary
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit

In a message dated 06/11/2001 11:00:35 AM Eastern Daylight Time, 
[log in to unmask] writes:


> 
> Kate:
> Just for fun, what is your favorite poem?  I figure it's probably worth a 
> read.
> 
> 

It is.

Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour 

Light the first light of evening
In which we rest and, for small reason, think
The world imagined is the ultimate good.
This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous.
It is in that thought that we collect ourselves,
Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:
Within a single thing, a single shawl
Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth,
A light, a power, the miraculous influence.
Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves.
We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole,
A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous.
Within its vital boundary, in the mind.
We say God and the imagination are one...
How high that highest candle lights the dark.
Out of this same light, out of the central mind,
We make a dwelling in the evening air,
In which being there together is enough.    

       - Wallace Stevens - 

--part1_7d.1651b9ce.2856a4cd_boundary
Content-Type: text/html; charset="US-ASCII"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit

<HTML><FONT FACE=arial,helvetica><FONT  SIZE=2>In a message dated 06/11/2001 11:00:35 AM Eastern Daylight Time, 
<BR>[log in to unmask] writes:
<BR>
<BR>
<BR><BLOCKQUOTE TYPE=CITE style="BORDER-LEFT: #0000ff 2px solid; MARGIN-LEFT: 5px; MARGIN-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 5px">
<BR>Kate:
<BR>Just for fun, what is your favorite poem? &nbsp;I figure it's probably worth a 
<BR>read.
<BR>
<BR></BLOCKQUOTE>
<BR>
<BR>It is.
<BR>
<BR></FONT><FONT  COLOR="#000000" SIZE=5 FAMILY="SANSSERIF" FACE="Arial" LANG="0"><B>Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour 
<BR>
<BR></FONT><FONT  COLOR="#000000" SIZE=2 FAMILY="SANSSERIF" FACE="Arial" LANG="0"></B>Light the first light of evening
<BR>In which we rest and, for small reason, think
<BR>The world imagined is the ultimate good.
<BR>This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous.
<BR>It is in that thought that we collect ourselves,
<BR>Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:
<BR>Within a single thing, a single shawl
<BR>Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth,
<BR>A light, a power, the miraculous influence.
<BR>Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves.
<BR>We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole,
<BR>A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous.
<BR>Within its vital boundary, in the mind.
<BR>We say God and the imagination are one...
<BR>How high that highest candle lights the dark.
<BR>Out of this same light, out of the central mind,
<BR>We make a dwelling in the evening air,
<BR>In which being there together is enough.    
<BR>
<BR> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;- Wallace Stevens - </FONT></HTML>

--part1_7d.1651b9ce.2856a4cd_boundary--