June 5, 201412 yr So here I go again. But this was Stevens' last thought, when he knew he was dying of stomach cancer even as the medical ethics of the mid-1950s said don't tell the patient. Of Mere Being The palm at the end of the mind, Beyond the last thought, rises In the bronze decor. A gold-feathered bird Sings in the palm, without human meaning, Without human feeling, a foreign song. You know then that it is not the reason That makes us happy or unhappy. The bird sings. Its feathers shine. The palm stands on the edge of space. The wind moves slowly in the branches. The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
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