Mary Oliver Poems
- A Dream Of Trees There is a thing in me that dreamed of ...
- A Visitor My father, for example, who was young once and ...
- Wild Geese You do not have to be good. You do not have to ...
- When Death Comes When death comes like the hungry bear in ...
- The Journey One day you finally knew what you had to do, and...
- Black Oaks Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a ...
- After Arguing Against The Cont...
Mary Oliver (born September 10, 1935) is an American poet who has won the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. The New York Times described her as "far and away, [America's] best-selling poet".
Mary Oliver was born to Edward William and Helen M. V. Oliver on September 10, 1935, in Maple Heights, Ohio, a semi-rural suburb of Cleveland. Her father was a social studies ... more »
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Quotationsmore quotations »
''Poetry isn't a profession, it's a way of life. It's an empty basket; you put your life into it and make something out of that.''Mary Oliver (b. 1935), U.S. poet. Georgia Review, p. 733 (Winter 1981).
A Dream Of Trees
There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,
A quiet house, some green and modest acres
A little way from every troubling town,
A little way from factories, schools, laments.
I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,
With only streams and birds for company.
To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.
And then it came to me, that so was death,
A little way away from everywhere.
There is a thing in me still dreams of trees,
But let it go. Homesick for moderation,
Half the world’s artists shrink or fall away.
If any find solution, let him ...