But to-night I’ve been polite to a friend—
have guzzled vin ordinaire
+ puffed a Villar y Villar
and opened my dusty tobacco-jar—
and my nerves, as a consequence,
are a bit uneasy;
the thought of that soft star
comes on me most benignly.
To-morrow, however, I shall reassume
the scrutiny of things as they are.
(From Wallace Steven’s journal, October 1903)
Verbatim Poetry 