{"id":246,"date":"2025-09-24T19:15:13","date_gmt":"2025-09-24T19:15:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/hartfordlit.org\/?p=246"},"modified":"2026-01-28T21:29:35","modified_gmt":"2026-01-28T21:29:35","slug":"of-hartford-in-a-purple-light","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/hartfordlit.org\/?p=246","title":{"rendered":"Of Hartford in a Purple Light"},"content":{"rendered":"

This poem imagines that the sun, making its daily westward journey to Hartford, brings with it all the appealing aspects of Europe. The warm \u201cpurple\u201d light of late afternoon in Hartford reminds Stevens of the romantic allure of Paris, with the legendary beauty of its women and its rich cultural atmosphere (for instance, the elaborate architecture and musical splendor of the Paris Opera House).\u00a0 He jokingly compares the sun to a French poodle, wet from its trip over the ocean, shaking off a shower of iridescent drops that transform Hartford (\u201cthe town, the river, the railroad\u201d) into a sparkling paradise.<\/em><\/p>\n

Of Hartford in a Purple Light<\/strong><\/h2>\n

by Wallace Stevens<\/strong><\/p>\n

A long time you have been making the trip
\nFrom Havre to Hartford, Master Soleil,
\nBringing the lights of Norway and all that.<\/p>\n

A long time the ocean has come with you,
\nShaking the water off, like a poodle,
\nThat splatters incessant thousands of drops,<\/p>\n

Each drop a petty tricolor. For this,
\nThe aunts in Pasadena, remembering,
\nAbhor the plaster of the western horses,<\/p>\n

Souvenirs of museums. But, Master, there are
\nLights masculine and lights feminine.
\nWhat is this purple, this parasol,<\/p>\n

This stage-light of the Opera?
\nIt is like a region full of intonings.
\nIt is Hartford seen in a purple light.<\/p>\n

A moment ago, light masculine,
\nWorking, with big hands, on the town,
\nArranged its heroic attitudes.<\/p>\n

But now as in an amour of women
\nPurple sets purple round. Look, Master,
\nSee the river, the railroad, the cathedral .<\/p>\n

When male light fell on the naked back
\nOf the town, the river, the railroad were clear.
\nNow, every muscle slops away.<\/p>\n

Hi! Whisk it, poodle, flick the spray
\nOf the ocean, ever-freshening,
\nOn the irised hunks, the stone bouquet.<\/p>\n

\n

Glossary<\/strong><\/p>\n

Havre<\/em>: Le Havre, a city in France
\nSoleil<\/em>: sun (French)
\nparasol<\/em>: umbrella for shading the sun
\namour<\/em>: secret love affair or lover
\nirised<\/em>: made iridescent (a play of color caused when light refracts)<\/p>\n

\u201cOf Harford in a Purple Light\u201d from THE COLLECTED POEMS OF WALLACE STEVENS by Wallace Stevens, copyright 1942 by Wallace Stevens, copyright \u00a9 renewed 1970 by Holly Stevens. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of the Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
This poem imagines that the sun, making its daily westward journey to Hartford, brings with it all the appealing aspects of Europe. The warm \u201cpurple\u201d light of late afternoon in Hartford reminds Stevens of the romantic allure of Paris, with the legendary beauty of its women and its rich cultural atmosphere (for instance, the elaborate … Continue reading Of Hartford in a Purple Light<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[71],"tags":[47,32,31],"class_list":["post-246","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-wallace-stevens","tag-hartford-setting","tag-poem","tag-poetry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/hartfordlit.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/246","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/hartfordlit.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/hartfordlit.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hartfordlit.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hartfordlit.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=246"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/hartfordlit.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/246\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/hartfordlit.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=246"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hartfordlit.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=246"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hartfordlit.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=246"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}