All winter the water has crashed over the cold the cold sand. Now it breaks over the thin branch of your body.

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your kn… for a hundred miles through the de… You only have to let the soft anim… love what it loves.

On a summer morning I sat down on a hillside to think about God – a worthy pastime.

In the early curtains of the dusk it flew, a slow galloping this way and that way

My work is loving the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hum… equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there t… Here the clam deep in the speckled…

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

In winter all the singing is in the tops of the trees where the wind-bird with its white eyes

When the blackberries hang swollen in the woods, in the bramb… nobody owns, I spend all day among the high branches, reaching

Meditation is old and honorable, s… not sit, every morning of my life,… looking into the shining world? Be… attended to, delight, as well as h… Can one be passionate about the ju…

The river Of my childhood, That tumbled Down a passage of rocks And cut-work ferns,

“For example, what the trees do not only in lightning storms or the watery dark of a summer’s n… or under the white nets of winter but now, and now, and now—whenever

Did you too see it, drifting, all… Did you see it in the morning, ris… An armful of white blossoms, A perfect commotion of silk and li… into the bondage of its wings; a s…

The spirit likes to dress up like this: ten fingers, ten toes, shoulders, and all the rest

Last night in the fields I lay down in the darkness to think about death, but instead I fell asleep,

She steps into the dark swamp where the long wait ends. The secret slippery package drops to the weeds. She leans her long neck and tongue…