Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
The Doctor of GenevaWallace Stevens
From “Sur Ma Guzzla Gracile”
T
That lay impounding the Pacific swell,
Patted his stove-pipe hat and tugged his shawl.
By such long-rolling opulent cataracts,
Unless Racine or Bossuet held the like.
The multifarious heavens felt no awe
Before these visible, voluble delugings,
Spinning and hissing with oracular
Notations of the wild, the ruinous waste,
In an unburgherly apocalypse.
The doctor used his handkerchief and sighed.