The Man With the Blue Scarf

Through the flowers, beyond the stones, see— What is that wishful warmth that touches your arm? Draw in the occasional laughter; put your fingertips within; He on the white path lays wide, a blue scarf near your heart.

Speak softly while singing; under green leaves, circle between the trees; Wait at a doorstep of angels, beckoning, for he knows your way. Watch the rise among lilies, their thoughts unseen yet there, And he knows far the odor of the blue scarf, so delightful.

Come and linger ‘round the light; they tremble forever just on the trees; Language lies its one tone—it does not have a sound—so be it, dear. This is but life an abstraction raised from a yellow sea. Yet carry the blue scarf onward, for let the heart be bruised!

Even so every spring may come, so deep within you see; And the sun glimmers bright among the groves, Attune the bosom to the sound of trees, Feel freely from where sunlight pours. Savor flavors in the light reach askance by all you hold.

• Wallace Stevens