• Devotions, The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver

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• "August of another summer, and once again / I am drinking the sun --"
• "So, be slow if you must, but let / the heart still play its true part."
• "Why am I always going anywhere, instead of / somewhere?"
• "Come with me into the woods where spring is / advancing, as it does, no matter what, --"
• "It took four of us to carry her into the woods. / We did not think of music, / but, anyway, it began to rain / slowly. -- A dog can never tell you what she knows from the / smells of the world, but you know, watching her, that you know / almost nothing. -- She roved ahead of me through the fields, yet would come back, or wait for me, or be somewhere. / Now she is buried under the pines. / Nor will I argue it, or pray for anything but modesty, and / not to be angry."
• "I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers / flow in the right direction, will the earth turn / as it was taught, and if not, how shall / I correct it? / Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better?"
• "And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything? / And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for? / And have you changed your life?"
• "What I loved in the beginning, I think, was mostly myself. / Never mind that I had to, since somebody had to. / That was many years ago. / Since then I have gone out from my confinements, / though with difficulty. / I mean the ones that thought to rule my heart. -- And what do I risk to tell you this, which is all I know? / Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world."
• "I ask you again: if you have not been enchanted by / this adventure — your life — what would do for / you?"
• "How people come, from delight or the / scars of damage, / to the comfort of a poem. / Let me keep my distance, always, from those / who think they have the answers. / Let me keep company always with those who say / 'Look!' and laugh in astonishment, / and bow their heads."
• "There was someone I loved who grew old and ill. / One by one I watched the fires go out. / There was nothing I could do / except to remember / that we receive / then we give back."
• "those two maidens of the wilderness / from which we have — / who knows to what furious, pitiful extent — / banished ourselves."
• "What I want to say is / that the past is the past, / and the present is what your life is, / and you are capable / of choosing what that will be, / darling citizen."
• "I have dreamed / of accomplishment. / I have fed / ambition. / I have traded / nights of sleep / for a length of work. / Lo, and I have discovered / how soft bloom / turns to green fruit / which turns to sweet fruit. / Lo, and I have discovered / all winds blow cold / at last, / and the leaves, / so pretty, so many, / vanish / in the great, black / packet of time, / in the great, black / packet of ambition, / and the ripeness / of the apple / is its downfall."
• "I don't know what God is. / I don't know what death is. / But I believe they have between them / some fervent and necessary arrangement."
• "Two or three times in my life I discovered love. / Each time it seemed to solve everything. / Each time it solved a great many things / but not everything. / You left me as grateful as if it had indeed, and / thoroughly, solved everything."
• "believe us, they say, / it is a serious thing / just to be alive / on this fresh morning / in this broken world."
• "When I am among the trees, -- / they give off such hints of gladness. / I would almost say that they save me, and daily. / I am so distant from the hope of myself, / in which I have goodness, and discernment, / and never hurry through the world / but walk slowly, and bow often."
• "mercy is in your hands, pour / me a little. And tenderness too. My / need is great. Beauty walks so freely / and with such gentleness. -- / When I first found you I was / filled with light, now the darkness grows / and it is filled with crooked things, bitter / and weak, each one bearing my name."
• "In matters of love / of this kind / there are things we long to do / but must not do. / I would not want to see / your smile diminished."
• "I would be good — oh, I would be upright and good."
• "I tell you this / to break your heart, / by which I mean only / that it break open and never close again / to the rest of the world."
• "You are breathing / patiently; it is a / beautiful sound. It is / your life, which is so close / to my own that I would not know / where to drop the knife of / separation."
• "So it is / if the heart has devoted itself to love, there is / not a single inch of emptiness."
• "In the deep fall / don't you imagine the leaves think how / comfortable it will be to touch / the earth instead of the / nothingness of air and the endless / freshets of wind?"
• "Wild sings the bird of the heart in the forests / of our lives. -- / wild, wild sings the bird."
• "It is okay to know only / one song if it is this one. -- / You listen and you know / you could live a better life than you do, be / softer, kinder. And maybe this year you will / be able to do it."
• "The years to come — this is a promise — / will grant you ample time / to try the difficult steps in the empire of thought / where you seek for the shining proofs you think you must have. / But nothing you ever understand will be sweeter, or more binding, / than this deepest affinity between your eyes and the world. -- / Listen, / maybe such devotion, in which one holds the world / in the clasp of attention, isn't the perfect prayer, / but it must be close, for the sorrow, whose name is doubt / is thus subdued, and not through the weaponry of reason, / but of pure submission. Tell me, what else / could beauty be for? -- / It isn't instruction, or a parable. / It isn't for any vanity or ambition / except for the one allowed, to stay alive. -- / And you find, for hours, / you cannot even remember the questions / that weigh so in your mind."
• "Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last! / What a task / to ask / of anything, or anyone, / yet it is ours, / and not by the century or the year, but by the hours."
• "There are things you can't reach. But / you can reach out to them, and all day long. -- / And it can keep you as busy as anything else, and happier. -- / I look; morning to night I am never done with looking. / Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing around / as though with your arms open. / And thinking: maybe something will come, some / shining coil of wind, / or a few leaves from any old tree — / they are all in this too. / And now I will tell you the truth. / Everything in the world / comes. / At least, closer. / And, cordially."
• "Now that I'm free to be myself, who am I? -- / my heart panics not to be, as I long to be, / the empty, waiting, pure, speechless receptacle."
• "You are standing at the edge of the woods / at twilight / when something begins / to sing, like a waterfall / pouring down / through the leaves."
• "to look / with the moon of his eye / into my heart, / and find there / pure, sudden, steep, sharp, painful / gratitude / that falls — / I don't know — either / unbearable tons / or the pale, bearable hand / of salvation / on my neck,"
• "Nothing lasts. / There is a graveyard where everything I am talking about is, / now. / I stood there once, on the green grass, scattering flowers."
• "I mention them now, / I will not mention them again. / It is not lack of love / nor lack of sorrow. / But the iron thing they carried, I will not carry. / I give them — one, two, three, four — the kiss of courtesy, / of sweet thanks, / of anger, of good luck in the deep earth. / May they sleep well. May they soften. / But I will not give them the kiss of complicity. / I will not give them the responsibility for my life."
• "The poem is not the world. / It isn't even the first page of the world. / But the poem wants to flower, like a flower. / It knows that much. / It wants to open itself, / like the door of a little temple, / so that you might step inside and be cooled and refreshed, / and less yourself than part of everything."
• "When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider / the orderliness of the world. Notice / something you have never noticed before, / like the tambourine sound of the snow-cricket / whose pale green body is no longer than your thumb. / Stare hard at the hummingbird, in the summer rain, / shaking the water-sparks from its wings. / Let grief be your sister, she will whether or no. / Rise up from the stump of sorrow, and be green also, / like the diligent leaves. / A lifetime isn't long enough for the beauty of this world / and the responsibilities of your life. / Scatter your flowers over the graves, and walk away. / Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance. / In the glare of your mind, be modest. / And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling. / Live with the beetle, and the wind. / This is the dark bread of the poem. / This is the dark and nourishing bread of the poem. "
• "What is my name, / o what is my name / that I may offer it back / to the beautiful world?"
• "Do you have a question that can't be answered? / Do the stars frighten you by their heaviness / and their endless number? / Does it bother you, that mercy is so difficult to / understand?"
• "the wings of the leaves / the swords of the leaves / rising and clashing / for the rose of the sun / the salt of the stars / the crown of the wind"
• "And who will care, who will chide you if you wander away / from wherever you are, to look for your soul?"
• "Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling at a life?"
• "Only last week I went out among the thorns and said / to the wild roses: / deny me not, / but suffer my devotion."
• "Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from / one boot to another — why don't you get going? / For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees. / And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists / of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money, / I don't even want to come in out of the rain."
• "Above the modest house and the palace — the same darkness. / Above the evil man and the just, the same stars. -- / the same energies roll forward, / from one tragedy to the next and from one foolishness to the next. / I bow down. / Have I not loved as though the beloved could vanish at any moment,"
• "If there is life after the earth-life, will you come with me? / Even then? Since we're bound to be something, why not / together."
• "My heart was pounding. I stood a while, listening / to the small sounds of the woods and looking at the stars. / After excitement we are so restful. When the thumb of fear / lifts, we are so alive."
• "What misery to be afraid of death. / What wretchedness, to believe only in what can be proven."
• "Are no the difficult labors of our lives / full of dark hours? / And what has consciousness come to anyway, so far, / that is better than these light-filled bodies?"
• "When death comes / like the hungry bear in autumn; -- / when death comes / like an iceberg between the shoulder blades, / I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: / what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness? / And therefore I look upon everything / as a brotherhood and a sisterhood, / and I look upon time as no more than an idea, / and I consider eternity as another possibility, / and I think of each life as a flower, as common / as a field daisy, and as singular, / and each name a comfortable music in the mouth, / tending, as all music does, toward silence, / and each body a lion of courage, and something / precious to the earth. -- / When it's over, I don't want to wonder / if I have made of my life something particular, and real. / I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened, / or full of argument. / I don't want to end up simply having visited this world."
• "Not often, / but now and again there's a moment / when the heart cries aloud: / yes, I am willing to be / that wild darkness, / that long, blue body of light."
• "5. At the Edge of the Ocean: I have heard this music before, / saith the body."
• "What does the world / mean to you if you can't trust it / to go on shining when you're / not there?"
• "Look, I want to love this world / as though it's the last chance I'm ever going to get / to be alive / and know it."
• "Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? / Tell me, what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?"
• "In every heart there is a god of flowers, just waiting / to come out of its cloud and lift its wings. -- / As for myself, I am not yet a god of even the palest flowers."
• "so I thought: / maybe death / isn't darkness, after all, / but so much light / wrapping itself around us — / as soft as feathers —"
• "Nothing's important / except that the great and cruel mystery of the world, / of which this is a part, / not be denied."
• "Every morning / the world / is created. / Under the orange / sticks of the sun / the heaped / ashes of the night / turn into leaves again / and fasten themselves to the high branches / and the ponds appear / like black cloth / on which are painted islands / of summer lilies. / If it is your nature / to be happy / you will swim away along the soft trails / for hours, your imagination / alighting everywhere. / And if your spirit / carries within it / the thorn / that is heavier than lead — / if it's all you can do / to keep on trudging — / there is still / somewhere deep within you / a beast shouting that the earth / is exactly what it wanted — "
• "One day you finally knew / what you had to do, and began, / though the voices around you / kept shouting / their bad advice — / though the whole house / began to tremble / and you felt the old tug / at your ankles. / 'Mend my life!' / each voice cried. / But you didn't stop. / You knew what you had to do, / though the wind pried / with its stiff fingers / at the very foundations — / though their melancholy / was terrible. / It was already late / enough, and a wild night, / and the road full of fallen / branches and stones. / But little by little, / as you left their voices behind, / the stars began to burn / through the sheets of clouds, / and there was a new voice, / which you slowly / recognized as your own, / that kept you company / as you strode deeper and deeper / into the world, / determined to do / the only thing you could do — / determined to save / the only life you could save. "
• "The way I'd like to go on living in this world / wouldn't hurt anything,"
• "Come with me / into the field of sunflowers. / Their faces are burnished disks, / their dry spines / creak like ship masts, -- / each of them, though it stands / in a crowd of many, / like a separate universe, / is lonely, the long work / of turning their lives / into a celebration / is not easy. Come / and let us talk with those modest faces, / the simple garments of leaves, / the coarse roots in the earth / so uprightly burning."
• "How sometimes everything / closes up, a painted fan, landscapes and moments / flowing together until the sense of distance -- / vanishes, edges slide together /like the feathers of a wing, everything / touches everything."
• "and though the questions / that have assailed us all day / remain — not a single / answer has been found — / walking out now / into the silence and the light / under the trees, / and through the fields, / feels like one."
• "But these are the woods you love, / where the secret name / of every death is life again — a miracle / wrought surely not of mere turning / but of dense and scalding reenactment."
• "Listen, whatever it is you try / to do with your life, nothing will ever dazzle you / like the dreams of your body, / its spirit / longing to fly while the dead-weight bones / toss their dark mane and hurry / back into the fields of glittering fire / where everything -- / throbs with song."
• "the blue of the sky falls over me / like silk, the flowers burn, and I want / to live my life all over again, to begin again, / to be utterly / wild."
• "there's a sickness / worse than the risk of death and that's / forgetting what we should never forget."
• "I went out / from the news of your illness / like a broken bone / I spoke your name / to the sickle moon and saw her white wing / fall back toward the blackness, but she / rowed deep past that hesitation, and / kept rising. -- / I felt better, telling them about you. / They know what pain is, and they knew you, / and they would have stopped too, as I / was longing to do, everything, the hunger / and the flowing. / That they could not — / merely loved you and waited / to take you back / as a stone, -- / as the beautiful pulse of everything, / meanwhile not missing one shred of their own / assignments of song / and muscle — / was what I learned there, so I / got up finally, with a grief / worthy of you, and went home."
• "The dream of my life / Is to lie down by a slow river / And stare at the light in the trees — / To learn something by being nothing / A little while but the rich / Lens of attention."
• "That night, you turn in your bed / to watch the moon rise, and once more / see what a small coin it is / against the darkness, and how everything else / is a mystery, and you know / nothing at all except / the moonlight is beautiful — / white rivers running together / along the bare boughs of the trees — / and somewhere, for someone, life / is becoming moment by moment / unbearable."
• "And the sky / with its new moon, its familiar star-trails, / burns down like a brand-new heaven, / while everywhere I look on the scratchy hillsides / shadows seem to grow shoulders."
• "But your soul won't listen; / in the distance it is unfolding / like a pair of wings, it is sparking / like hot wires. -- / And that's when you know / you will live whether you will or not, / one way or another, / because everything is everything else,"
• "You light the lamps because / You are along in your small house / And the wicks sputtering gold / Are like two visitors with good stories / They will tell you slowly, in soft voices, / While the air outside turns quietly / A grainy and luminous blue."
• "Somebody, I suppose, / Remembering the medieval maxim, / Had tossed me in, / Had wanted me to learn to swim, / Not knowing that none of us, who ever came back / From that long lonely fall and frenzied rising, / Ever learned anything at all / About swimming, but only / How to put off, one by one, / Dreams and pity, love and grace, — / How to survive in any place."
• "The deed took all my heart. / I did not think of you, / Not till the thing was done. / I put my sword away, / And then no more the cold / And perfect fury ran / Along my narrow bones, / And then no more the black / And dripping corridors / Held anywhere the shape / That I had come to slay. -- / Hunting the minotaur / I was no common man / And had no need of love. / I trailed the shining thread / behind me, for a vow, / And did not think of you."
• "In trees still dripping night some nameless birds / Woke, shook out their arrowy wings, and sang, / Slowly, like finches sifting through a dream. / The pink sun fell, like glass, into the fields."