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timdski: RIP, William Stanley Merwin

MomiraMonika: Every year without knowing I have passed the day when the last fires will wave to me and the silence will set out tireless traveler like the beam of a lightless star ~ ~ William Stanley Merwin ~ 30.9.1927-15.3.2019 Foto: Michael Shainblum

_iamrilya: Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color. by William Stanley Merwin

happy_at_home_: Every year without knowing it I have passed the day. -William Stanley Merwin “For the Anniversary of my Death” 1967 “Love and Death” Francisco Goya 1799

everyTitleCincy: Opening The Hand : Poems—Merwin, W. S. (William Stanley), 1927-2019 1983 Book | 811.54 m576 h items: 2 | circs: 6 | last circ: 5/2019

Divi_by_Zero: Wish ~ William Stanley Merwin, 2017 Please one more kiss in the kitchen before we turn the lights off

okworker33: W.S Merwin, a big influence. “Sunflowers are brought to me on the morning of your death in the clear day”… The rain in the trees : poems : Merwin, W. S. (William Stanley), 1927- Available to borrow : Internet Archive

TheWellCSJ: We hope you can join us on January 15th from 8 am to 2 pm as we explore the wisdom found in the later poems of Mary Oliver, Stanley Kunitz, Denise Levertov, William Stafford, and W. S. Merwin. Learn more about the Flourishing Retreat by visiting

gregm333: William Stanley Merwin

jasonpmyers: Happy birthday, William Stanley Merwin

IcebergsMelting: Happy Birthday William Stanley Merwin

zarandillo: “Every year without knowing it I have passed the day / When the last fires will wave to me,” he reflected... “Then I will no longer / Find myself in life as in a strange garment ...” William Stanley Merwin (Nueva York, 1927-Haiku, Hawái; 2019)

PetloverHermine: 30Sept/1927: W.S. (William Stanley) Merwin is born in New York City. He’ll begin writing poetry at age five.

Advaidism: "Your absence has gone through me like a thread through needle, because everything I do is stitched with its color." - Separation, by William Stanley Merwin.

c05iNa3GnqKFc4b: William Stanley Merwin (1927-2019 ) Dusk in Winter The sun sets in the cold without friends, Without reproaches after all it has done for us. It goes down believing in nothing. When it has gone I hear the stream running after it. It has brought its flute it is a long way.

juanviejo: Short, sweet and sad. Wish by William Stanley Merwin

_cr33d_: from what we cannot hold the stars are made Youth By: William Stanley Merwin

bach_peter: The cold slope is standing in darkness But the south of the trees is dry to the touch 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 - William Stanley Merwin

FrRobbieOCall: She wanted to hear the angels sing. So she dreamed that her arms became wings. Then she flew up to heaven to hear their golden voices. Hearing them sing made her eyes moist. She woke up so happy from her dream. From her face a smile beamed. by William Stanley Merwin

noktuoid: william stanley merwin

GrantaMag: ‘This place, where the temperature drops noticeably as you walk into it from the road, survived William Stanley Merwin as equal parts oasis, stage set and work of art.’ Robert Becker on the palm forest of W.S. Merwin, for the online edition of Granta 153

al_wejdan_: Your absence has gone through me  Like thread through a needle.  Everything I do is stitched with its color. -William Stanley Merwin

alefRigfar: I have been younger in October than in all the months of spring [ William Stanley Merwin ]

chipps_m: Poetry Night Presents - William Stanley (W.S.) Merwin was born in New York City on September 30, 1927. His numerous collections of poetry, his translations, and his books of prose have won praise over seven decades.

IcebergsMelting: Happy Birthday William Stanley Merwin

ARTSalamode: Born 9/30: writers Truman Capote, William Stanley "W.S." Merwin, Elie Wiesel, Laura Esquivel, Jay Asher, Eileen Chang, jazz musicians: drums Bernard "Buddy" Rich, sax Antonio Hart, bass Oscar Pettiford, trumpet Jon Eardley, vocals Patrice Rushen.

DoraMillaci: Notturno - poesia di William Stanley Merwin

NoirAgust: Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color. - William Stanley Merwin, Separation

merwincnsrvncy: A year ago today, when the world learned of W.S. Merwin's death, many remembrances and expressions of appreciation came our way. We collected many of them on our website, and you can scroll through them here:

radadadan: William Stanley Merwin

FirasAlshdidy11: Separation..!! Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color. by William Stanley Merwin

DerEntspannende: Merwin's Revolution - writer Robert Becker' reflections of the late poet William Stanley Merwin » FLUX

fer_pujato: "You grieve / Not that heaven does not exist but / That it exists without us." William Stanley Merwin Ernst Haas, Sicily, 1965.

OverflowRanch: Happy Birthday William Stanley Merwin

ARTSalamode: Born 9/30: painter Camilla D'Errico, writers "Rumi" Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi, Truman Capote, William Stanley "W.S." Merwin, Laura Esquivel, Eileen Chang, jazz musicians: sax Antonio Hart, bass Oscar Pettiford, drums Bernard "Buddy" Rich, trumpet Jon Eadley,vocals Patrice Rushen

merwincnsrvncy: A poem of gratitude for today, which would have been William Stanley Merwin's 92nd birthday. (Video recorded yesterday in the garden - we recommend *sound on* for the full experience.) . "Variation on a Theme" is one…

Tina69911364: William Stanley Merwin - born on this day, in 1927

mukarrarblog: There are some poems that linger on your lips long after you've read them 'To the New Year' is one such poem by Wil...

mukarrarblog: There are some poems that linger on your lips long after you've read them 'To the New Year' is one such poem by Wil...

50yearsofhurt: A garden is made of hope William Stanley Merwin



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Poem of the day

Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

Read complete poem

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