James Wellbeloved Cat Food, Weight Gain

Wallace Stevens. Sunday morning. 4

4
She says, 'I am content When wakened birds, Before They
fly, test the reality Of misty fields
, by Their sweet questionings;
But when to the birds Are Gone, warm and Their fields
Return no more, where, Then, Is Paradise? "
There Is Not Any haunt of prophecy,
Nor Any old chimera of the grave,
Neither the golden underground, north isle
Melodious, Where Spirits Gat Them Home,
Nor visionary south, north cloudy palm
Remote on heaven's hill, That has hardened
Endures As April's green, or will endure Like her remembrance of
Awakened birds, Or her desire
for June and evening, tipped By the consummation
of the swallow's wings.

4
She said 'I am happy when the birds awakened, the lasso
before the flight, examine the reality of the fields
haze with candy questions;
but when the birds leave and not return and more
their warm fields, where is heaven? "
No hint of prophecy here,
or any of that chimera of the grave,
or gold under the earth, nor the sweet
island where the spirits live,
not a visionary south, nor cloudy palm between remote
on the hill of heaven and remained vegetables remain
as April or remain
as his memory of the birds that wake
or her desire for June and evening,
encouraged by the consummation of the bird's wings.