Wallace Stevens - The Plain Sense of Things lyrics

After the leaves have fallen, we return
To a plain sense of things it is as if
We had come to an end of the imagination
Inanimate in an inert savoir

It is difficult even to choose the adjective
For this blank cold
This sadness without cause
The great structure has become a minor house
No turban walks across the lessened floors

The greenhouse never so badly needed paint
The chimney is fifty years old
And slants to one side
A fantastic effort has failed, a repetition
In a repetitiousness of men and flies

Yet the absence of the imagination had
Itself to be imagined the great pond
The plain sense of it
Without reflections, leaves
Mud, water like dirty glass
Expressing silence

Of a sort, silence of a rat come out to see
The great pond and it's waste of the lilies
All this had to be imagined as
An inevitable knowledge
Required, as a necessity requires