Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

¹Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird.

²I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds.

³The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds. It was a small part of the pantomime.

⁴A man and a woman Are one. A man and a woman and a blackbird Are one.

⁵I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendoes, The blackbird whistling Or just after.

⁶Icicles filled the long window With barbaric glass. The shadow of the blackbird Crossed it, to and fro. The mood Traced in the shadow An indecipherable cause.

⁷O thin men of Haddam, Why do you imagine golden birds? Do you not see how the blackbird Walks around the feet Of the women about you?

⁸I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms; But I know, too, That the blackbird is involved In what I know.

⁹When the blackbird flew out of sight, It marked the edge Of one of many circles.

¹⁰At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply.

¹¹He rode over Connecticut In a glass coach. Once, a fear pierced him, In that he mistook The shadow of his equipage For blackbirds.

¹²The river is moving. The blackbird must be flying.

¹³It was evening all afternoon. It was snowing And it was going to snow. The blackbird sat In the cedar-limbs.