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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Wallace Stevens

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

The Cuban Doctor

Wallace Stevens

From “Sur Ma Guzzla Gracile”

I WENT to Egypt to escape

The Indian, but the Indian struck

Out of his cloud and from his sky.

This was no worm bred in the moon,

Wriggling far down the phantom air,

And on a comfortable sofa dreamed.

The Indian struck and disappeared.

I knew my enemy was near—I,

Drowsing in summer’s sleepiest horn.