Sunday Morning

Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her. This is a beautiful day, let us rejoice in her. In the midst of the season, through all the sunlight, The world is all aglow. For there is a wildness: There is a kind of beautiful wildness. For in the invention of life, The ways of life are so many. Consider the lilacs at the window Or the stillness of the dove in the heart. Let us rise, let us sing For the beauty of our brief time here.

— Wallace Stevens

• Wallace Stevens