Jane Kenyon

(1947-1995 / United States)

Jane Kenyon Poems

1. Afternoon at MacDowell 4/24/2015
2. Man Eating 5/29/2015
3. Trouble with Math in a One-Room Country School 12/4/2015
4. The Argument 5/23/2014
5. Thinking Of Madame Bovary 5/23/2014
6. No Steps 5/23/2014
7. Coats 7/6/2015
8. Heavy Summer Rain 5/23/2014
9. Alone For A Week 5/23/2014
10. The Clearing 5/23/2014
11. Gettysburg: July 1, 1863 5/23/2014
12. Not Writing 4/21/2010
13. Not Here 4/21/2010
14. Private Beach 4/21/2010
15. Three Songs At The End Of Summer 4/21/2010
16. The Pond At Dusk 4/21/2010
17. Sun And Moon 4/21/2010
18. Portrait Of A Figure Near Water 4/21/2010
19. The Shirt 4/21/2010
20. Christmas Away From Home 4/21/2010
21. What Came To Me 3/7/2015
22. Taking Down The Tree 4/21/2010
23. Dutch Interiors 1/20/2003
24. Twilight: After Haying 1/20/2003
25. February: Thinking Of Flowers 1/20/2003
26. Wash 1/13/2003
27. Notes From The Other Side 1/20/2003
28. Biscuit 1/13/2003
29. Finding A Long Gray Hair 1/13/2003
30. The Blue Bowl 1/13/2003
31. Briefly It Enters, And Briefly Speaks 1/20/2003
32. The Suitor 1/20/2003
33. Happiness 1/20/2003
34. Otherwise 1/13/2003
35. Having It Out With Melancholy 1/20/2003
36. Let Evening Come 1/20/2003
Best Poem of Jane Kenyon

Let Evening Come

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as ...

Read the full of Let Evening Come

Happiness

There's just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.

And how can you not forgive?
You make a feast in honor of what
was lost, and take from its place the finest
garment, which you saved for an occasion

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