I had as lief be embraced by the porter at the hotel
As to get no more from the moonlight
Than your moist hand.
Be the voice of night and Florida in my ear.
Use dusky words and dusky images.
Darken your speech.
Speak, eve, as if I did not hear you speaking,
But spoke for you perfectly in my thoughts,
Conceiving words,
As the night conceives the sea-sounds in silence,
and out of their droning sibilants makes
a serenade.
Say, puerile, that the buzzards crouch on the ridge-pole
And sleep with one eye watching the stars fall
Below Key West.
Say that the palms are clear in a total blue,
Are clear and are obscure; that it is night;
That the moon shines.
— Wallace Stevens
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