Wallace Stevens - The Motive for Metaphor lyrics

You like it under the trees in autumn
Because everything is half dead
The wind moves like a
Cripple among the leaves
And repeats words without meaning

In the same way, you were happy in spring
With the half colors of quarter-things
The slightly brighter sky
The melting clouds
The single bird, the obscure moon

The obscure moon lighting an obscure world
Of things that would never
Be quite expressed
Where you yourself were never quite yourself
And did not want nor have to be

Desiring the exhilarations of changes:
The motive for metaphor, shrinking from
The weight of primary noon
The A B C of being

The ruddy temper, the hammer
Of red and blue, the hard sound
Steel against intimation the sharp flash
The vital, arrogant, fatal, dominant X