All Poems

/ page 2671 of 3210 /

Order by :

The Ships Are Made Ready In Silence

© William Stanley Merwin

Moored to the same ring:
The hour, the darkness and I,
Our compasses hooded like falcons.

Term

© William Stanley Merwin

At the last minute a word is waiting
not heard that way before and not to be
repeated or ever be remembered
one that always had been a household word

The Burnt Child

© William Stanley Merwin

I could hear the scratch and flare
when they were over
and catch the smell of the striking
I knew what the match would feel like
lighting
when I was very young

Beggars And Kings

© William Stanley Merwin

In the evening
all the hours that weren't used
are emptied out
and the beggars are waiting to gather them up

Vehicles

© William Stanley Merwin

This is a place on the way after the distances
can no longer be kept straight here in this dark corner
of the barn a mound of wheels has convened along
raveling courses to stop in a single moment

Whenever I Go There

© William Stanley Merwin

In new rocks new insects are sitting
With the lights off
And once more I remember that the beginning

It Is March

© William Stanley Merwin

It is March and black dust falls out of the books
Soon I will be gone
The tall spirit who lodged here has
Left already
On the avenues the colorless thread lies under
Old prices

December Night

© William Stanley Merwin

The heavy limbs climb into the moonlight bearing feathers
I came to watch these
White plants older at night
The oldest
Come first to the ruins

Some Last Questions

© William Stanley Merwin

What is the head
A. Ash
What are the eyes
A. The wells have fallen in and have

The Source

© William Stanley Merwin

There in the fringe of trees between
the upper field and the edge of the one
below it that runs above the valley
one time I heard in the early

Before The Flood

© William Stanley Merwin

Why did he promise me
that we would build ourselves
an ark all by ourselves
out in back of the house

By this part of the century few are left who believe
in the animals for they are not there in the carved parts
of them served on plates and the pleas from the slatted trucks
are sounds of shadows that possess no future

For A Coming Extinction

© William Stanley Merwin

Gray whale
Now that we are sinding you to The End
That great god
Tell him
That we who follow you invented forgiveness
And forgive nothing

The Speed Of Light

© William Stanley Merwin

So gradual in those summers was the going
of the age it seemed that the long days setting out
when the stars faded over the mountains were not
leaving us even as the birds woke in full song and the dew

Wish

The star in my
Hand is falling

The River Of Bees

In a dream I returned to the river of bees
Five orange trees by the bridge and
Beside two mills my house
Into whose courtyard a blind man followed
The goats and stood singing
Of what was older

Any Time

How long ago the day is
when at last I look at it
with the time it has taken
to be there still in it

When You Go Away

When you go away the wind clicks around to the north
The painters work all day but at sundown the paint falls
Showing the black walls
The clock goes back to striking the same hour
That has no place in the years

Unknown Bird

Out of the dry days
through the dusty leaves
far across the valley
those few notes never
heard here before

For The Anniversary Of My Death

Every year without knowing it I have passed the day
When the last fires will wave to me
And the silence will set out
Tireless traveller
Like the beam of a lightless star