The soul hath power, through God's mysterious plan,
To mould anew and to assimilate
The outward incidents that wait on man,
And make them like his hidden, inward state.
If there's a storm within, then all things round
The inward storm to clouds and darkness changes;
But inward light makes outward light abound,
And o'er external things in beauty ranges.
If but the soul be right, submissive, pure,
If stamps whate'er takes place with peace and bliss;
If fierce, revengeful, and unjust, 'tis sure
From outward things to draw unhappiness.
Then watch, and chiefly watch, the inward part,
For all is right, and well, if there's a holy heart.
Why Wallace Stevens’ Poetry is the Ultimate Guide to Mindful Living and the Antidote to the AI Era
Although he appeared as a poet relatively late in his career, the author left...
