Mary Oliver Poems
|43.||Little Owl Who Lives In The Orchard||3/30/2005|
|45.||The Buddha's Last Instruction||1/3/2003|
|49.||Little Summer Poem Touching The Subject Of Faith||1/3/2003|
|50.||Heron Rises From The Dark, Summer Pond||1/13/2003|
|60.||Have You Ever Tried To Enter The Long Black Branches||3/30/2005|
|61.||Honey At The Table||1/13/2003|
|65.||Where Does The Dance Begin, Where Does It End?||3/30/2005|
|69.||Why I Wake Early||3/30/2005|
|71.||Poem (The Spirit Likes To Dress Up...)||1/13/2003|
|73.||Last Night The Rain Spoke To Me||3/30/2005|
|74.||At Great Pond||1/3/2003|
|75.||Beyond The Snow Belt||3/30/2005|
|76.||An Afternoon In The Stacks||1/13/2003|
|79.||A Letter From Home||3/30/2005|
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 ...
Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!
What a task
of anything, or anyone,
yet it is ours,
and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.
One fall day I heard
above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound
I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was