Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

I Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird.

II I sat alone in the bare, white morning On the window ledge, And looking out at the snowy mountains, I saw the blackbird [Unseen] Move some evergreen boughs.

III In the cold, white morning, A blackbird flew Between snowflakes and low, invisible, Paths of air.

IV It was evening all afternoon It was snowing And the blackbird Whistled its real song.

V The blackbird Is an embodiment of beauty, Its song, the only music. I saw the blackbird [Unseen] Move some evergreen boughs.

VI The blackbird was not alone at all. This is what I saw: An eye, and a blur of wings, [Unseen] The mountains, still and majestic.

VII I made an image of the mountains, And the air, I had forgotten. Then the blackbird [Unseen] Moved some evergreen boughs.

VIII I sit among the mountains, I draw a breath, I feel its air surround me, And it whistles near.

IX With the snow, The blackbird’s song, An everlasting melody, Whistles near.

X In the snow, The black bird, Its dominion, The essence of the mountains.

XI And once again: I sit among the hills And watch the blackbird soar, Unseen, Above the mountains.

XII The eye is beautiful, The essence to each bird, The only thing moving, Against the stillness.

XIII I saw a blackbird, Witnessing the beauty to the mountains and the trees, As I absorbed its song.

— Wallace Stevens, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”

• Wallace Stevens