Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver

23 карма
Mary Jane Oliver (September 10, 1935 – January 17, 2019) was an American poet who won the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. Her work is inspired by nature, rather than the human world, stemming from her lifelong passion for solitary walks in the wild. It is characterised by a sincere wonderment at the impact of natural imagery, conveyed in unadorned language.
In 2007 she was declared to be the country's best-selling poet.
Все работыПоиск

от·
Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy
Читать дальше

от·
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
Читать дальше

от·
It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
Читать дальше

от·
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
Читать дальше

от·
Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly
Читать дальше

от·
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
Читать дальше

от·
Excerpt:
You don’t want to hear the story
of my life, and anyway
I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen
Читать дальше

от·
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
Читать дальше

от·
Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air –
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
The Swan
Читать дальше

от·
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
Читать дальше

от·
I go down to the edge of the sea.
How everything shines in the morning light!
The cusp of the whelk,
the broken cupboard of the clam,
Читать дальше