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Collected Poems 1943-2004
Over the course of his distinguished sixty-year career, Richard Wilbur has written seventeen collections of poetry, four children's books, and numerous works in prose and translations. This comprehensive collection presents Wilbur's poems, including several new and never before published.
In trackless woods, it puzzled me to find
Four great rock maples seemingly aligned,
As if they had been set out in a row
Before some house a century ago,
To edge the property and lend some shade.
I looked to see if ancient wheels had made
Old ruts to which the trees ran parallel,
But there were none, so far as I could tell-
There'd been no roadway. Nor could I find the square
Depression of a cellar anywhere,
And so I tramped on further, to survey
Amazing patterns in a hornbeam spray
Or spirals in a pine cone, under trees
Not subject to our stiff geometries.
-from "In Trackless Woods"
In trackless woods, it puzzled me to find
Four great rock maples seemingly aligned,
As if they had been set out in a row
Before some house a century ago,
To edge the property and lend some shade.
I looked to see if ancient wheels had made
Old ruts to which the trees ran parallel,
But there were none, so far as I could tell-
There'd been no roadway. Nor could I find the square
Depression of a cellar anywhere,
And so I tramped on further, to survey
Amazing patterns in a hornbeam spray
Or spirals in a pine cone, under trees
Not subject to our stiff geometries.
-from "In Trackless Woods"
585 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2004
38 people are currently reading
749 people want to read
About the author
Richard Wilbur
247听books69听followersEarly years :
Wilbur was born in New York City and grew up in North Caldwell, New Jersey.He graduated from Montclair High School in 1938, having worked on the school newspaper as a student there. He graduated from Amherst College in 1942 and then served in the United States Army from 1943 to 1945 during World War II. After the Army and graduate school at Harvard University, Wilbur taught at Wesleyan University for two decades and at Smith College for another decade. At Wesleyan, he was instrumental in founding the award-winning poetry series of the University Press.He received two Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry and, as of 2011, teaches at Amherst College.He is also on the editorial board of the literary magazine The Common, based at Amherst College.He married Charlotte Hayes Ward in 1942 after his graduation from Amherst; she was a student at nearby Smith College.
Career :
When only 8 years old, Wilbur published his first poem in John Martin's Magazine. His first book, The Beautiful Changes and Other Poems, appeared in 1947. Since then he has published several volumes of poetry, including New and Collected Poems (Faber, 1989). Wilbur is also a translator, specializing in the 17th century French comedies of Moli猫re and the dramas of Jean Racine. His translation of Tartuffe has become the standard English version of the play, and has been presented on television twice (a 1978 production is available on DVD.)
Continuing the tradition of Robert Frost and W. H. Auden, Wilbur's poetry finds illumination in everyday experiences. Less well-known is Wilbur's foray into lyric writing. He provided lyrics to several songs in Leonard Bernstein's 1956 musical, Candide, including the famous "Glitter and Be Gay" and "Make Our Garden Grow." He has also produced several unpublished works such as "The Wing" and "To Beatrice".
His honors include the 1983 Drama Desk Special Award for his translation of The Misanthrope, the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry and the National Book Award, both in 1957, the Edna St Vincent Millay award, the Bollingen Prize, and the Chevalier, Ordre National des Palmes Acad茅miques. He was elected a Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1959.In 1987 Wilbur became the second poet, after Robert Penn Warren, to be named U.S. Poet Laureate after the position's title was changed from Poetry Consultant. In 1989 he won a second Pulitzer, this one for his New and Collected Poems. On October 14, 1994, he received the National Medal of Arts from President Clinton. In 2006, Wilbur won the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize. In 2010 he won the National Translation Award for the translation of The Theatre of Illusion by Pierre Corneille.
Wilbur was born in New York City and grew up in North Caldwell, New Jersey.He graduated from Montclair High School in 1938, having worked on the school newspaper as a student there. He graduated from Amherst College in 1942 and then served in the United States Army from 1943 to 1945 during World War II. After the Army and graduate school at Harvard University, Wilbur taught at Wesleyan University for two decades and at Smith College for another decade. At Wesleyan, he was instrumental in founding the award-winning poetry series of the University Press.He received two Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry and, as of 2011, teaches at Amherst College.He is also on the editorial board of the literary magazine The Common, based at Amherst College.He married Charlotte Hayes Ward in 1942 after his graduation from Amherst; she was a student at nearby Smith College.
Career :
When only 8 years old, Wilbur published his first poem in John Martin's Magazine. His first book, The Beautiful Changes and Other Poems, appeared in 1947. Since then he has published several volumes of poetry, including New and Collected Poems (Faber, 1989). Wilbur is also a translator, specializing in the 17th century French comedies of Moli猫re and the dramas of Jean Racine. His translation of Tartuffe has become the standard English version of the play, and has been presented on television twice (a 1978 production is available on DVD.)
Continuing the tradition of Robert Frost and W. H. Auden, Wilbur's poetry finds illumination in everyday experiences. Less well-known is Wilbur's foray into lyric writing. He provided lyrics to several songs in Leonard Bernstein's 1956 musical, Candide, including the famous "Glitter and Be Gay" and "Make Our Garden Grow." He has also produced several unpublished works such as "The Wing" and "To Beatrice".
His honors include the 1983 Drama Desk Special Award for his translation of The Misanthrope, the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry and the National Book Award, both in 1957, the Edna St Vincent Millay award, the Bollingen Prize, and the Chevalier, Ordre National des Palmes Acad茅miques. He was elected a Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1959.In 1987 Wilbur became the second poet, after Robert Penn Warren, to be named U.S. Poet Laureate after the position's title was changed from Poetry Consultant. In 1989 he won a second Pulitzer, this one for his New and Collected Poems. On October 14, 1994, he received the National Medal of Arts from President Clinton. In 2006, Wilbur won the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize. In 2010 he won the National Translation Award for the translation of The Theatre of Illusion by Pierre Corneille.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 46 reviews
November 14, 2020
Richard Wilbur, a fellow Amherst College grad, is simply the best Moliere translator, bar none. But he's not a moving poet, rather a "pr茅cieux poete"--see Odette De Morgues on them in the 17C, and their relation to the Metaphysical poets. Pr茅cieux verse refines, shows elegance often beyond the weight of the poem itself.
Having heard the poet read several times, I review the spoken word as well as his lyrics I read decades ago.For instance, when I taught in the Berkshires, he read at Simon's Rock just as it was merging with Bard College. He read "Seed," written just after he was planting beans. In "Skeleton" he footnoted "bone spurs" (made infamous by the false claim of our Liar in Chief): Wilbur got them from swimming in cold water; they're very common among Finns and Norwegians. "Phone Booth" is a translation of Voznesensky (who may have read at our Amherst College).
Of course, "The Writer" was written for his daughter. 鈥淐ottage Street, 1953" tells when he lived in Lincoln, MA, while his mother-in-law Edna Ward lived in Wellesley. Edna invited them over to meet a young Smith student who was given to poetry, and had just attempted suicide. He was given the job to exemplify that poetry need not imply suicide. The girl, of course, Sylvia Plath..arguably the most over-rated of American poets, though she did write (like Roethke) maybe 7 poems better than anything by Wilbur.
My favorite Wilbur verse, "Fourth of July," his subject the first reading of Alice in Wunderland, by Dobson, in 1862, when Grant was in Memphis, planning Vicksburg.
Most insightful on publications: say A) the New Yorker's "remorseless seasonableness," so probably publish 4th of July around..you guessed it; or B) "Opposites," an amusing poem, therefore assigned to "Children's Lit" THEN, it must have an age assigned to it. His epigrammatic "Opposites" was classified as "8 to 12"!
Having heard the poet read several times, I review the spoken word as well as his lyrics I read decades ago.For instance, when I taught in the Berkshires, he read at Simon's Rock just as it was merging with Bard College. He read "Seed," written just after he was planting beans. In "Skeleton" he footnoted "bone spurs" (made infamous by the false claim of our Liar in Chief): Wilbur got them from swimming in cold water; they're very common among Finns and Norwegians. "Phone Booth" is a translation of Voznesensky (who may have read at our Amherst College).
Of course, "The Writer" was written for his daughter. 鈥淐ottage Street, 1953" tells when he lived in Lincoln, MA, while his mother-in-law Edna Ward lived in Wellesley. Edna invited them over to meet a young Smith student who was given to poetry, and had just attempted suicide. He was given the job to exemplify that poetry need not imply suicide. The girl, of course, Sylvia Plath..arguably the most over-rated of American poets, though she did write (like Roethke) maybe 7 poems better than anything by Wilbur.
My favorite Wilbur verse, "Fourth of July," his subject the first reading of Alice in Wunderland, by Dobson, in 1862, when Grant was in Memphis, planning Vicksburg.
Most insightful on publications: say A) the New Yorker's "remorseless seasonableness," so probably publish 4th of July around..you guessed it; or B) "Opposites," an amusing poem, therefore assigned to "Children's Lit" THEN, it must have an age assigned to it. His epigrammatic "Opposites" was classified as "8 to 12"!
December 27, 2009
Here's the thing about Richard Wilbur: you're sort of chugging along and then all of a sudden the cathedral windows "paraphrase the light," the goldfinch rises in "scalloped flight," the poem clicks elegantly shut, and you look closer and discover that the poem is actually written in rhymed haikus or complicated mixed meter or broken sonnets. This is all to say that the best Richard Wilbur poems are full of beautiful and quiet surprises. I'm sure I'll still be reading this book 50 years from now.
December 12, 2021
Not a review exactly, but here is my TOP TEN LIST for Richard Wilbur鈥檚 poems (missing periods may be attributed to this post鈥檚 origins in a Twitter thread):
10鈥擳he Writer: a narrative poem reminding us that for all his facility with form & metaphor, Wilbur saw writing as a matter of life & death. A rare glimpse, too, of the poet as a father
9鈥擳he House: a widower to his late wife. Published in old age, it may be Wilbur鈥檚 most tender poem. If his 鈥渄evelopment鈥� is a gradual move toward greater clarity & simplicity, this is a culmination. A suggestion in the 鈥渨idow鈥檚 walk鈥� that his wife鈥檚 the one now truly alive
8鈥擫ying: I tire of writers describing fiction as 鈥渓ying,鈥� but Wilbur gets a pass here. If I had to make a case for the importance (and maybe the truth?) of metaphor, I would start with this poem
7鈥擨n Limbo: a stirring meditation on time, identity, memory鈥攁nd really everything. Like 鈥淟ove Calls Us鈥︹€� it鈥檚 set in that twilight state between dream & waking, and so (I think) can sneak past the reader鈥檚 waking logical brain into that half-dreaming sweet spot
6鈥擲eed Leaves: an 鈥淗omage to R.F.鈥� this poems borrows several elements from Robert Frost. It confronts the tragedy of choice鈥攖o choose one path is to lose others. Greatness comes not by being all, but by growing as the particular thing you are. Reach heaven by going deep in earth
5鈥擮ctober Maples, Portland: an inspired lyric, and one of Wilbur鈥檚 most explicitly religious. He finds timeless, edenic beauty in the brief brilliance of autumn leaves. But his epiphany isn鈥檛 solitary鈥攊t鈥檚 social, communal, like the tongues of Pentecost
4鈥擜 Baroque Wall-Fountain in the Villa Sciarra: Wilbur described his career as a quarrel with Poe鈥檚 aesthetic escapism. Like Frost in 鈥淏irches,鈥� Wilbur sees earth as the place for love. His loving attention to the fountain enacts the kind of this-worldly spirituality he espouses
3鈥擣or C: a poem for Charlee, Wilbur鈥檚 wife. I sense 鈥淒over Beach鈥� in the background (key words appear in both poems). Where love for Arnold is a refuge from a loveless world, Wilbur finds love to be like the world: 鈥渟omething made.鈥� The poem can also be read as an ars poetica
2鈥擳he Beautiful Changes: an early lyric, a masterclass in poetic technique. But one feels in this brief poem the weight & mystery of something beyond technique. Wilbur鈥檚 perennial concerns鈥攃hange, metaphor, the beauty of creation鈥攁re here condensed & woven brilliantly together
1鈥擫ove Calls Us to the Things of This World: electric. Includes at least three of the best single lines you鈥檙e likely to read anywhere. Wilbur鈥檚 chief concern鈥攖he tension between a pull toward transcendence & love for the lowly 鈥渢hings of this world鈥濃€攊s held in perfect balance
Honorable Mentions:
鈥淎 World Without Objects Is a Sensible Emptiness鈥�
Looking into History
She
Hamlen Brook
Icons
Mayflies
The Reader
Under-appreciated Gems:
Elsewhere
Fern-Beds in Hampshire County
In the Field
The Sirens
10鈥擳he Writer: a narrative poem reminding us that for all his facility with form & metaphor, Wilbur saw writing as a matter of life & death. A rare glimpse, too, of the poet as a father
9鈥擳he House: a widower to his late wife. Published in old age, it may be Wilbur鈥檚 most tender poem. If his 鈥渄evelopment鈥� is a gradual move toward greater clarity & simplicity, this is a culmination. A suggestion in the 鈥渨idow鈥檚 walk鈥� that his wife鈥檚 the one now truly alive
8鈥擫ying: I tire of writers describing fiction as 鈥渓ying,鈥� but Wilbur gets a pass here. If I had to make a case for the importance (and maybe the truth?) of metaphor, I would start with this poem
7鈥擨n Limbo: a stirring meditation on time, identity, memory鈥攁nd really everything. Like 鈥淟ove Calls Us鈥︹€� it鈥檚 set in that twilight state between dream & waking, and so (I think) can sneak past the reader鈥檚 waking logical brain into that half-dreaming sweet spot
6鈥擲eed Leaves: an 鈥淗omage to R.F.鈥� this poems borrows several elements from Robert Frost. It confronts the tragedy of choice鈥攖o choose one path is to lose others. Greatness comes not by being all, but by growing as the particular thing you are. Reach heaven by going deep in earth
5鈥擮ctober Maples, Portland: an inspired lyric, and one of Wilbur鈥檚 most explicitly religious. He finds timeless, edenic beauty in the brief brilliance of autumn leaves. But his epiphany isn鈥檛 solitary鈥攊t鈥檚 social, communal, like the tongues of Pentecost
4鈥擜 Baroque Wall-Fountain in the Villa Sciarra: Wilbur described his career as a quarrel with Poe鈥檚 aesthetic escapism. Like Frost in 鈥淏irches,鈥� Wilbur sees earth as the place for love. His loving attention to the fountain enacts the kind of this-worldly spirituality he espouses
3鈥擣or C: a poem for Charlee, Wilbur鈥檚 wife. I sense 鈥淒over Beach鈥� in the background (key words appear in both poems). Where love for Arnold is a refuge from a loveless world, Wilbur finds love to be like the world: 鈥渟omething made.鈥� The poem can also be read as an ars poetica
2鈥擳he Beautiful Changes: an early lyric, a masterclass in poetic technique. But one feels in this brief poem the weight & mystery of something beyond technique. Wilbur鈥檚 perennial concerns鈥攃hange, metaphor, the beauty of creation鈥攁re here condensed & woven brilliantly together
1鈥擫ove Calls Us to the Things of This World: electric. Includes at least three of the best single lines you鈥檙e likely to read anywhere. Wilbur鈥檚 chief concern鈥攖he tension between a pull toward transcendence & love for the lowly 鈥渢hings of this world鈥濃€攊s held in perfect balance
Honorable Mentions:
鈥淎 World Without Objects Is a Sensible Emptiness鈥�
Looking into History
She
Hamlen Brook
Icons
Mayflies
The Reader
Under-appreciated Gems:
Elsewhere
Fern-Beds in Hampshire County
In the Field
The Sirens
December 14, 2010
If you don't know Wilbur, try his poem "Beasts" where six stanzas of five lines arranged like spinning tops and language will grip at your heart. You will move you from the dreamland of animals through the transformation of werewolf to the beastly actions of men (鈥渟uitors of excellence) in the name of 鈥渄reams for men鈥�. There is nothing insipid or trite about form crafted by such a master.
His poems probe without any ponderous posturing what it is about being human. His "Disappearing Alphabet" and "Opposites" with accompanying doodles, go beyond an Ogden Nash sense of whimsy to deeper levels of thought. One of my favorites, "Love Calls Us to the Things of This World" at first caught my eye with the line, "the air awash with angels" and seeing the sheets flapping on the laundry line, but then, I read again, and thanks to some background reading on Stoic philosophy, and an introduction to the term "Saudade" see how Wilbur fashions great poems that are not at all trite exercises in form and polish. Poems to read again and again.
I put the date December 13 as the date I "finished the book" -- but have been reading it in snatches for a long time and will continue to do so.
I had the pleasure of hearing him read at Amherst, 12/2/2010.
His poems probe without any ponderous posturing what it is about being human. His "Disappearing Alphabet" and "Opposites" with accompanying doodles, go beyond an Ogden Nash sense of whimsy to deeper levels of thought. One of my favorites, "Love Calls Us to the Things of This World" at first caught my eye with the line, "the air awash with angels" and seeing the sheets flapping on the laundry line, but then, I read again, and thanks to some background reading on Stoic philosophy, and an introduction to the term "Saudade" see how Wilbur fashions great poems that are not at all trite exercises in form and polish. Poems to read again and again.
I put the date December 13 as the date I "finished the book" -- but have been reading it in snatches for a long time and will continue to do so.
I had the pleasure of hearing him read at Amherst, 12/2/2010.
December 28, 2007
A splurge and well deserved - I toted this around and delved in and out for the emergent grace Wilbur produces so deftly. His belief in the flicker of everyday epiphany emerges unscathed and unabashed in this world. Beautiful, concisely human perfections.
May 25, 2010
This was a truly enjoyable collection of poems. Wilbur is a modern poet who is familiar and masterful with the older forms. This is true poetry flowing from a thoroughly educated mind. Striking phrases abound, which is one of the reasons for poetry's existence. Well worth it.
September 29, 2022
finally finished. take that Crider!
Revisited some faves and found some new friends. Looking forward to getting increasingly familiar with these books between now and panel day :)
Revisited some faves and found some new friends. Looking forward to getting increasingly familiar with these books between now and panel day :)
October 19, 2020
Well, I now have a new favorite modern poet: Richard Wilbur! Displacing Frost and Whitman by a hair, this guy seems to speak to me even more directly, more elegantly, more gobsmackingly. I've always loved (and admired) the relatively few Wilbur poems I've run across in anthologies--"The Death of a Toad" is one of my all-time favorites--but only after devouring this volume of his collected verse have I come to a true, belated appreciation of the man's genius. His cleverness of expression, his astonishing gift for rhyme, his quiet humanity all come shining through here. This collection also introduced me to one of the most surprising facets of Wilbur's commanding talent--the striking beauty of his many translations. In short, this is a desert island book for me and, I hope, for all lovers of modern English language verse.
July 10, 2024
This should really count as ten books, because there are ten books in it. Also, amazingly, they are all insanely good. Wilbur鈥檚 only fault (if you can call it that) is his penchant for using words you have never heard before and will never hear again. A lot.
Read
May 16, 2015Currently reading, along with the Poems of Richard Wilbur on my Nook. I bounce around. His short poem, Tanka, which is a tanka (type of poem) is great. Favorite is from Ceremony called Death of a Toad. Beautiful language, haunting.
September 21, 2017
Two of the older collections (Advice to a Prophet and Things of this World) were the ones I actually found interesting. The rest didn't do much for me, though Opposites (children's poems in the spirit of Ogden Nash) was a lot of fun.
May 30, 2012
Great volume of poetry.
Some real gems in here.
Some real gems in here.
March 27, 2025
This is in my top five books of all time. What can I say that would do it justice? It's not for everyone. But it is full of treasures. Wilbur is a master of form, and his poems are full of wit and elegance. His poetry has changed the way I see the world, especially the natural world. He has taught me so much about metaphor, and about the beauty of form. Each poem is a short meditation on a subject that reveals layers of perception and meaning. His world is grounded in matter and revels in the details: dirt, mayflies, changing maple leaves, pebbles on a beach, the way an old woman cleans a church for decades. But it fills everything with nobility and importance. God is almost never named but hovers at the edges of all the poems. I think his ethos is described by the title of this famous poem, "Love Calls Us to the Things of This World." Here is the poem.
Love Calls Us to the Things of This World
BY RICHARD WILBUR
The eyes open to a cry of pulleys,
And spirited from sleep, the astounded soul
Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple
As false dawn.
Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.
Some are in bed-sheets, some are in blouses,
Some are in smocks: but truly there they are.
Now they are rising together in calm swells
Of halcyon feeling, filling whatever they wear
With the deep joy of their impersonal breathing;
Now they are flying in place, conveying
The terrible speed of their omnipresence, moving
And staying like white water; and now of a sudden
They swoon down into so rapt a quiet
That nobody seems to be there.
The soul shrinks
From all that it is about to remember,
From the punctual rape of every bless猫d day,
And cries,
鈥淥h, let there be nothing on earth but laundry,
Nothing but rosy hands in the rising steam
And clear dances done in the sight of heaven.鈥�
Yet, as the sun acknowledges
With a warm look the world鈥檚 hunks and colors,
The soul descends once more in bitter love
To accept the waking body, saying now
In a changed voice as the man yawns and rises,
鈥淏ring them down from their ruddy gallows;
Let there be clean linen for the backs of thieves;
Let lovers go fresh and sweet to be undone,
And the heaviest nuns walk in a pure floating
Of dark habits,
keeping their difficult balance.鈥�
Love Calls Us to the Things of This World
BY RICHARD WILBUR
The eyes open to a cry of pulleys,
And spirited from sleep, the astounded soul
Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple
As false dawn.
Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.
Some are in bed-sheets, some are in blouses,
Some are in smocks: but truly there they are.
Now they are rising together in calm swells
Of halcyon feeling, filling whatever they wear
With the deep joy of their impersonal breathing;
Now they are flying in place, conveying
The terrible speed of their omnipresence, moving
And staying like white water; and now of a sudden
They swoon down into so rapt a quiet
That nobody seems to be there.
The soul shrinks
From all that it is about to remember,
From the punctual rape of every bless猫d day,
And cries,
鈥淥h, let there be nothing on earth but laundry,
Nothing but rosy hands in the rising steam
And clear dances done in the sight of heaven.鈥�
Yet, as the sun acknowledges
With a warm look the world鈥檚 hunks and colors,
The soul descends once more in bitter love
To accept the waking body, saying now
In a changed voice as the man yawns and rises,
鈥淏ring them down from their ruddy gallows;
Let there be clean linen for the backs of thieves;
Let lovers go fresh and sweet to be undone,
And the heaviest nuns walk in a pure floating
Of dark habits,
keeping their difficult balance.鈥�
March 27, 2019
*True confession: I didn't read all of the poems in this book - probably less than 10% of them. Of course, Richard Wilbur is an excellent poet. However, I am a lazy poetry reader. I lose interest if I don't connect with the poem fairly quickly. If I basically understand a poem, I will reread it. It is in this second rereading that I might come to understand and appreciate the poem. Unfortunately, sometimes I am still quite lost after one or two readings of Mr. Wilbur's poems so I give up. I found two poems which I liked very much: "Blackberries for Amelia" and "The Catch." I'm sure I would find many more if I read the other 90% of the poems. I also really liked the children's section which comes at the end of the book and is illustrated by Mr. Wilbur. I will keep the book mostly for the children's poems in hopes of getting to read them to a grandchild one day. If you like poetry a lot, I am sure you will love this book.
October 6, 2023
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I just kept finding lovely moments in these poems
鈥淭here鈥檚 a certain scope in that long love
Which constant spirits are the keepers of
And which , though taken to be tame and staid,
Is a wild sostenuto of the heart鈥�
鈥淎s night closed in, I felt myself alone
In a life too much my own鈥�
鈥淭he world鈥檚 a dream, Basho said,
Not because that dream鈥檚 a falsehood
But because it鈥檚 truer than it seems鈥�
鈥淲hen far in forest I am laid
In a place ringed around by stones,
Look for no melancholy shade
And have no thoughts of buried bones
For I am bodiless and bright鈥�
鈥淎ll creatures are, and are undone.
Then lose them, lose
With love each one,
And choose
To welcome love in the lively wasting sun鈥�
I just kept finding lovely moments in these poems
鈥淭here鈥檚 a certain scope in that long love
Which constant spirits are the keepers of
And which , though taken to be tame and staid,
Is a wild sostenuto of the heart鈥�
鈥淎s night closed in, I felt myself alone
In a life too much my own鈥�
鈥淭he world鈥檚 a dream, Basho said,
Not because that dream鈥檚 a falsehood
But because it鈥檚 truer than it seems鈥�
鈥淲hen far in forest I am laid
In a place ringed around by stones,
Look for no melancholy shade
And have no thoughts of buried bones
For I am bodiless and bright鈥�
鈥淎ll creatures are, and are undone.
Then lose them, lose
With love each one,
And choose
To welcome love in the lively wasting sun鈥�
October 9, 2017
I heard about this poet on a podcast and I really like his work a lot. This book is a keeper something that you can see yourself with over time,
August 27, 2020
Love reading a few poems before bed...
March 5, 2017
Though I probably underlined more individual lines in this volume than perhaps in any other poetry collection I've ever read, there is something too precious, too hermetic about Richard Wilbur's poetry. It is too removed from the humdrum of actual life, never mind the concerns of marginalized identity, which I realize it is unfair of me to cast back in time onto his poetry, but that impression is only reinforced by his adherence to formality. Every time he adds an unnecessary prepositional phrase just to maintain the meter, I can't help reading it as a metaphor for his focus on cosmetic matters rather than those of content.
February 21, 2017
Ready your cups and let the allusions spill from the pages, this work is heavy with allusion porn. Perhaps Wilbur thinks that winning critics over is making liberal allusions to greek mythology or western history.
December 27, 2007
Haven't read the whole thing, but decided I'd start reviewing it anyway, since I never read a poetry book at one go anyway. So far I've enjoyed it-- maybe more so than any other poetry collection I've read. I'm not sure whether Wilbur is "officially" one of the New Formalists, but many of these poems feel like they fit that category (lots of rhyme, for example-- which is fine with me as long as it isn't overdone) and the poems are for the most part fairly accessible. I didn't grow up reading much poetry, and still have some trouble "getting" poems many times, even those of poets I like (I usually need to read something several times), but these poems have been both accessible and subtle, and thoroughly enjoyable. I've heard of and seen a bit of Wilbur's work before, but this is my first extended exposure. Fortunately I have a really really cool and tasteful new cousin-in-law who drew my name for the gift exchange this year! Thanks Sarah!
March 29, 2016
I have never indulged in just reading poetry. Sure, I have read poems--lots of them--but never just for the sake of reading them. It was always with a purpose. So I highly recommend just curling up with a book of poems to read just for the sheer beauty of language and poetic imagery.
This set by Wilbur is stunning. The poems are modern in sensibility, yet nearly always grounded in more traditional forms. He is a Christian humanist, and his Christian perspective often exudes a very subtle sense of hope and more often a sense that there is so much more to what the eye can see. Like many transcendentalists, he uses nature as a gateway to extra-ordinary or spiritual experiences. But it is rarely heavy-handed. Just......lovely.
Maybe if we all read poetry more often we could solve all of the world's problems.....
This set by Wilbur is stunning. The poems are modern in sensibility, yet nearly always grounded in more traditional forms. He is a Christian humanist, and his Christian perspective often exudes a very subtle sense of hope and more often a sense that there is so much more to what the eye can see. Like many transcendentalists, he uses nature as a gateway to extra-ordinary or spiritual experiences. But it is rarely heavy-handed. Just......lovely.
Maybe if we all read poetry more often we could solve all of the world's problems.....
June 27, 2016
Wilbur is one of America's most eminent men of letters. This stunning collection is a strike from left field from contemporary writing. It does not sing in despair, and it is formal, tender yet strong, and it says something true. If you aren't careful, its most beautiful and striking moments will miss you altogether.
My first reading of Wilbur led me to think on the French poets, the Symbolists especially, and perhaps Moliere who Wilbur translated. There is also something searingly Biblical in the wisdom contained in between the pages. I doubt a poet of high calibre could simply shrug off the Bible as errant nonsense, as some poetasters do.
Wilbur's poems are colorful, intellectually honest, and subtly imaginative. Wilbur is now 92 years old and lives quietly. A career such as his has earned the private life.
My first reading of Wilbur led me to think on the French poets, the Symbolists especially, and perhaps Moliere who Wilbur translated. There is also something searingly Biblical in the wisdom contained in between the pages. I doubt a poet of high calibre could simply shrug off the Bible as errant nonsense, as some poetasters do.
Wilbur's poems are colorful, intellectually honest, and subtly imaginative. Wilbur is now 92 years old and lives quietly. A career such as his has earned the private life.
Want to read
September 18, 2007My copy of Wilbur is the complete-as-of-1961 'Poems,' which I contentedly loved until I realized with a shock of pleasure that there's forty more years of him that I get to read.
'There was perfection in the death of ferns
Which laid their fragile cheeks against the stone
A million years. Great mammoths overthrown
Composedly have made their long sojourns,
Like palaces of patience, in the gray
And changeless lands of ice. And at Pompeii
The little dog lay curled and did not rise
But slept the deeper as the ashes rose
And found the people incomplete, and froze
The random hands, the loose unready eyes
Of men expecting yet another sun
To do the shapely thing they had not done.'
'There was perfection in the death of ferns
Which laid their fragile cheeks against the stone
A million years. Great mammoths overthrown
Composedly have made their long sojourns,
Like palaces of patience, in the gray
And changeless lands of ice. And at Pompeii
The little dog lay curled and did not rise
But slept the deeper as the ashes rose
And found the people incomplete, and froze
The random hands, the loose unready eyes
Of men expecting yet another sun
To do the shapely thing they had not done.'
April 14, 2022
Because I did not finish this book (I stoped reading at page 283), one might argue that I have no business writing a review. Here we are. Although some of the poems are quite nice, and although some of the translations from french are quite impressive, the overall quality book itself is poor. The style is extremely derivative of other writers, and the structures, devices, and rhymes have the stale and soured smarminess of nursery rhymes.
I would not recommend this book to anyone. The only reason I was personally able to make it as far through the book as I did was that I've got a second hand copy and I became *slightly* obsessed with the notes, to-do lists, and journals written in the margins by the mysterious previous owner.
I would not recommend this book to anyone. The only reason I was personally able to make it as far through the book as I did was that I've got a second hand copy and I became *slightly* obsessed with the notes, to-do lists, and journals written in the margins by the mysterious previous owner.
June 14, 2009
This poet was a very intresting one because he had a cool way of writing poems. All these poems were were written with his imagination of the world. He did a pretty good job because some of them really made me laugh, others made me sad and if a author could change the mood of people then that shows hes a good poet. I acutally met this poet on a field and got to hear him out on his ideas and him reading some of his poems would was a fun experience.
I would recommend this book of poems to teens and elder folks.
I would recommend this book of poems to teens and elder folks.
September 12, 2012
The author won 2 Pulitzer Prizes for poetry and was a U.S. Poet Laureate. How fantastic is that? Here's why you should read him. He is prolific and versatile. He has poetry written in the style of Robert Frost, in the style of Ogden Nash, of T.S.Elliot, of Carl Sandburg, and many more. And everyone knows those poets, but unless you're a true poetry fan, you've probably never heard of Wilbur. I know that sounds strange, but he has so many voices and styles that it is just amazing. Good stuff and something for everyone.
February 22, 2008
One of the few poets of the last century who will be read in the next century. Many are the brilliantly composed, polished poems encapsulating moments of insight, change, and appreciation for a beautiful and fallen world. Will be read in the company of Frost, Donne, and Hopkins...in other words, a poet concerened with a metaphysical architecture beneath the good sensed reality of the world.
June 10, 2009
This is a book for stuck up adults who read 24/7 and waist a Friday evening at a book signing or something. I didn't understands this poetry, the words were to big and the jokes were for a small audience of boring people. I don't enjoy reading unless what am reading is very interesting and long story short, I quit this anthology of poetry, I just couldn't take it.
Read
June 11, 2009I was excited because this was the third time i meet authors of different books. So i went to the Y with writing arts class and i got to meet Richard Wilbur. He talked about his poerty and at the end we were given his book of poems and i read them. The poems were really good and i especially liek the short poems with the pictures in the back. i recommend people who like poetry to read them
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