Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Palace of the BabiesWallace Stevens
T
Outside of gates of hammered serafin,
Observing the moon-blotches on the walls.
Or else sat spinning on the pinnacles,
While he imagined humming sounds and sleep.
And each black window of the building balked
His loneliness and what was in his mind:
Drawn close by dreams of fledgling wing,
It was because night nursed them in its fold.
The clambering wings of birds of black revolved,
Making harsh torment of the solitude.
And in his heart his disbelief lay cold.
His broad-brimmed hat came close upon his eyes.