• 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 thing that would never be quite expressed,
    Where you yourself were never quite yourself
    And did not want nor have to be ...

    Wallace Stevens (2011). “The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens”, p.288, Vintage