Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
I Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird.
II I heard it in the cicadas
As it sang of the past. The icicles that seemed to dwell in
The embrace of the world.
III I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds.
IV The blackbird whistled Its simple song.
I thought I saw it fly.
V Its shadow had flown, Into the woods, it was gone— But it lingered on, a voice.
- Wallace Stevens