Explore "Invective Against Swans" by Wallace Stevens on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The soul, O ganders, flies beyond the parks / And far beyond the discords of the wind.
A bronze rain from the sun descending marks / The death of summer, which that time endures
Like one who scrawls a listless testament / Of golden quirks and Paphian caricatures,
Bequeathing your white feathers to the moon / And giving your bland motions to the air.
Behold, already on the long parades / The crows anoint the statues with their dirt.
And the soul, O ganders, being lonely, flies / Beyond your chilly chariots, to the skies.