Abstract

A close reading of Mary Robinson’s late-eighteenth-century poem “London’s Summer Morning,” which captures all the noises and smells of a busy London street, is not enough to convince the reader that it isn’t all a dream. But whose dream? René Descartes and Wallace Stevens suggest that it may not matter.

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Additional Information

ISSN
1086-329X
Print ISSN
0190-0013
Pages
pp. 392-399
Launched on MUSE
2018-02-08
Open Access
No
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