All Poems

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Last Night the Rain Spoke to Me

© Mary Oliver

Last night
the rain
spoke to me
slowly, saying,

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Where Does the Dance Begin, Where Does It End?

© Mary Oliver

Don't call this world adorable, or useful, that's not it.
It's frisky, and a theater for more than fair winds.
The eyelash of lightning is neither good nor evil.
The struck tree burns like a pillar of gold.

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Gannets

© Mary Oliver

I am watching the white gannets
blaze down into the water
with the power of blunt spears
and a stunning accuracy--

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Toward The Space Age

© Mary Oliver

We must begin to catch hold of everything
around us, for nobody knows what we
may need. We have to carry along
the air, even; and the weight we once

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Walking To Oak-Head Pond, And Thinking Of The Ponds I Will Visit In The Next Days And Weeks

© Mary Oliver

What is so utterly invisible
as tomorrow?
Not love,
not the wind,

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Happiness

© Mary Oliver

In the afternoon I watched
the she-bear; she was looking
for the secret bin of sweetness -
honey, that the bees store

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The Kingfisher

© Mary Oliver

The kingfisher rises out of the black wave
like a blue flower, in his beak
he carries a silver leaf. I think this is
the prettiest world--so long as you don't mind

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Clapp's Pond

© Mary Oliver

Three miles through the woods
Clapp's Pond sprawls stone gray
among oaks and pines,
the late winter fields

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That Sweet Flute John Clare

© Mary Oliver

That sweet flute John Clare;
that broken branch Eddy Whitman;
Christopher Smart, in the press of blazing electricity;
My uncle the suicide;

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Sand Dabs, Five

© Mary Oliver

You can have the other words-chance, luck, coincidence,
serendipity. I'll take grace. I don't know what it is exactly, but
I'll take it.

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The Kookaburras

© Mary Oliver

In every heart there is a coward and a procrastinator.
In every heart there is a god of flowers, just waiting
to stride out of a cloud and lift its wings.
The kookaburras, pressed against the edge of their cage,

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Dogfish

© Mary Oliver

Some kind of relaxed and beautiful thing
kept flickering in with the tide
and looking around.
Black as a fisherman's boot,
with a white belly.

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Why I Wake Early

© Mary Oliver

Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who made the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips

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The Humpbacks

© Mary Oliver

Listen, whatever it is you try
to do with your life, nothing will ever dazzle you
like the dreams of your body,

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Aunt Leaf

© Mary Oliver

Needing one, I invented her -
the great-great-aunt dark as hickory
called Shining-Leaf, or Drifting-Cloud
or The-Beauty-of-the-Night.

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Climbing The Chagrin River

© Mary Oliver

We enter
the green river,
heron harbor,
mud-basin lined

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Heron Rises From The Dark, Summer Pond

© Mary Oliver

So heavy
is the long-necked, long-bodied heron,
always it is a surprise
when her smoke-colored wings

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The Family

© Mary Oliver

The dark things of the wood
Are coming from their caves,
Flexing muscle.

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Marengo

© Mary Oliver

Out of the sump rise the marigolds.
From the rim of the marsh, muslin with mosquitoes,
rises the egret, in his cloud-cloth.
Through the soft rain, like mist, and mica,
the withered acres of moss begin again.

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Morning Glories

© Mary Oliver

Blue and dark-blue
rose and deepest rose
white and pink they