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Garden Time
"There are few great poets alive at any one time, and W.S. Merwin is one of them. Read him." —The Guardian
"Merwin has attained a transcendent and transformative elevation of beaming perception, exquisite balance, and clarifying beauty." —Booklist, starred review of The Moon before Morning
"Merwin has become instantly recognizable on the page." —Helen Vendler, The New York Review of Books
W.S. Merwin composed Garden Time during the difficult process of losing his eyesight. When he could no longer see well enough to write, he dictated his new poems to his wife, Paula. In this gorgeous, mindful, and life-affirming book, our greatest poet channels energy from animated sounds and memories to remind us that "the only hope is to be the daylight."
From "A Breath of Day":
Last night I slept on the floor of the sea
in an unsounded part of the ocean
in the morning it was a long way up
through the dark streets of a silent country
with no language in its empty houses
until I had almost reached the surface
of a morning that I had never seen
then a breeze came to it and I began
to remember the voices of young leaves . . .
W.S. Merwin served as Poet Laureate of the United States and has received every major literary accolade, including two Pulitzer prizes, most recently for The Shadow of Sirius (Copper Canyon), and the National Book Award for Migration: New and Selected Poems (Copper Canyon). He lives in Hawaii.
"Merwin has attained a transcendent and transformative elevation of beaming perception, exquisite balance, and clarifying beauty." —Booklist, starred review of The Moon before Morning
"Merwin has become instantly recognizable on the page." —Helen Vendler, The New York Review of Books
W.S. Merwin composed Garden Time during the difficult process of losing his eyesight. When he could no longer see well enough to write, he dictated his new poems to his wife, Paula. In this gorgeous, mindful, and life-affirming book, our greatest poet channels energy from animated sounds and memories to remind us that "the only hope is to be the daylight."
From "A Breath of Day":
Last night I slept on the floor of the sea
in an unsounded part of the ocean
in the morning it was a long way up
through the dark streets of a silent country
with no language in its empty houses
until I had almost reached the surface
of a morning that I had never seen
then a breeze came to it and I began
to remember the voices of young leaves . . .
W.S. Merwin served as Poet Laureate of the United States and has received every major literary accolade, including two Pulitzer prizes, most recently for The Shadow of Sirius (Copper Canyon), and the National Book Award for Migration: New and Selected Poems (Copper Canyon). He lives in Hawaii.
96 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2016
17 people are currently reading
662 people want to read
About the author
W.S. Merwin
192 books347 followersWilliam Stanley Merwin was an American poet, credited with over fifty books of poetry, translation and prose.
William Stanley Merwin (September 30, 1927 – March 15, 2019) was an American poet who wrote more than fifty books of poetry and prose, and produced many works in translation. During the 1960s anti-war movement, Merwin's unique craft was thematically characterized by indirect, unpunctuated narration. In the 1980s and 1990s, his writing influence derived from an interest in Buddhist philosophy and deep ecology. Residing in a rural part of Maui, Hawaii, he wrote prolifically and was dedicated to the restoration of the island's rainforests.
Merwin received many honors, including the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1971 and 2009; the National Book Award for Poetry in 2005, and the Tanning Prize—one of the highest honors bestowed by the Academy of American Poets—as well as the Golden Wreath of the Struga Poetry Evenings. In 2010, the Library of Congress named him the 17th United States Poet Laureate.
William Stanley Merwin (September 30, 1927 – March 15, 2019) was an American poet who wrote more than fifty books of poetry and prose, and produced many works in translation. During the 1960s anti-war movement, Merwin's unique craft was thematically characterized by indirect, unpunctuated narration. In the 1980s and 1990s, his writing influence derived from an interest in Buddhist philosophy and deep ecology. Residing in a rural part of Maui, Hawaii, he wrote prolifically and was dedicated to the restoration of the island's rainforests.
Merwin received many honors, including the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1971 and 2009; the National Book Award for Poetry in 2005, and the Tanning Prize—one of the highest honors bestowed by the Academy of American Poets—as well as the Golden Wreath of the Struga Poetry Evenings. In 2010, the Library of Congress named him the 17th United States Poet Laureate.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 66 reviews
February 6, 2017
wonderful poems.
October 5, 2019
I loved this!
A sample of Cloud...
Because I do not hope ever again
to pass this way I sing these
notes now in silence
each in its own time
one morning near the end of spring
among the invisible unheard stars I sing
this one time with the hope that is here
in every breath
may these notes be heard another morning
in another life
in another spring together
A sample of Cloud...
Because I do not hope ever again
to pass this way I sing these
notes now in silence
each in its own time
one morning near the end of spring
among the invisible unheard stars I sing
this one time with the hope that is here
in every breath
may these notes be heard another morning
in another life
in another spring together
Read
December 16, 2016This is a slow-you-down collection of minimalist pieces by W.S. The reason you slow down is that there is no punctuation. Unpunctuated poetry requires stops and starts, retries. Ah, yes. THAT makes sense. When I pause THERE. Otherwise, gobbledygook.
Despite that, I found a couple of gems to appreciate in the book. One mentioned Li Po, an ancient Chinese poet I met thanks to Czeslaw Milosz's A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry.
“River” by W.S. Merwin
Li Po the little boat is gone
that carried you ten thousand li
downstream past the gibbons calling
all the way from both banks and they
too are gone and the forests they
were calling from and you are gone
and every sound you heard is gone
now there is only the river
that was always on its own way
Another subtle mood piece I enjoyed was "The Sound of Forgetting" because, well, I like sounds like that. Most unusual. Unlike the sound of televisions and radios and Internet games and, of course, people on cellphones.
"The Sound of Forgetting" by W.S. Merwin
All night while the rain fell
the dark valley heard in silence
the silent valley did not remember
you were asleep beside me
while the rain fell all around us
I listened to you breathing
I wanted to remember
the sound of your breath
but we lay there forgetting
asleep and awake
forgetting a breath at a time
while the rain went on falling around us
Yeah. Like that, these poems are. Nature poems. Gentle-like. Li Po might get off his boat for one or two. And you?
Despite that, I found a couple of gems to appreciate in the book. One mentioned Li Po, an ancient Chinese poet I met thanks to Czeslaw Milosz's A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry.
“River” by W.S. Merwin
Li Po the little boat is gone
that carried you ten thousand li
downstream past the gibbons calling
all the way from both banks and they
too are gone and the forests they
were calling from and you are gone
and every sound you heard is gone
now there is only the river
that was always on its own way
Another subtle mood piece I enjoyed was "The Sound of Forgetting" because, well, I like sounds like that. Most unusual. Unlike the sound of televisions and radios and Internet games and, of course, people on cellphones.
"The Sound of Forgetting" by W.S. Merwin
All night while the rain fell
the dark valley heard in silence
the silent valley did not remember
you were asleep beside me
while the rain fell all around us
I listened to you breathing
I wanted to remember
the sound of your breath
but we lay there forgetting
asleep and awake
forgetting a breath at a time
while the rain went on falling around us
Yeah. Like that, these poems are. Nature poems. Gentle-like. Li Po might get off his boat for one or two. And you?
October 19, 2016
The concept of memory and forgetting, of sound and other intangibles we live through permeate this wonderfully accessible collection written when Merwin is getting on in years. One thing I loved was how the poems seem to march along in a order that makes us think about the previous poem. One poem feeds off another because of common timeless themes.
What does rain sound like? What is time and how do we recognize we are living through it? How do we remember and how do we forget? Are we aware of anything before our actual birth? Merwin thinks so. Many poems are seasonal and many refer to summer and autumn and the play between their convergence.
What does rain sound like? What is time and how do we recognize we are living through it? How do we remember and how do we forget? Are we aware of anything before our actual birth? Merwin thinks so. Many poems are seasonal and many refer to summer and autumn and the play between their convergence.
February 27, 2025
One of the best volumes of poetry I've read in a while.
September 2, 2017
A lovely collection of quiet subtle poems. As far as I can tell Merwin was in his eighties when he wrote most of these verses. It took me a while to hear his voice clearly as I have not previously read his poetry. He is an avid gardener and a buddhist . Both of these influences show in the poems. He asks some of life's fundeamental questions, gives no answers except for the beauty he has created in words.
November 28, 2016
Classic, beautiful Merwin, as always. These poems are filled with the simplicity and depth that aging affords us. A must read!
February 7, 2017
My first collection of Merwin. Lovely lovely. I'll be returning to these poems, and can't wait for them to reveal new wonders.
June 9, 2024
Beautiful. Merwin’s words in his final book convey the heartbreaking impossibility of sounding the unheard, the absent, what has already stopped in silence. Melancholy grasping at what cannot be held tinged with regret for not remembering the little things we wish we could remember about those who have passed on/things that will pass us on and not persist in our memories.
November 17, 2020
I find I'm drawn mostly by goodness, happiness, fidelity, and gratitude, especially when they are combined with a sense of groundedness and acceptance. All of these themes converge in this collection written at the end of Merwin's life. There's a lot of looking back, a sense of loss and grief, but also a lovely pervasive hope. It made me think a lot about my own old age and what it might be like.
Wish
Please one more
kiss in the kitchen
before we turn the lights off
Wish
Please one more
kiss in the kitchen
before we turn the lights off
April 4, 2017
This was the first collection of poetry I read for this year's National Poetry Month. Also my first read of poetry by W. S. Merwin. My favorite poems in this collection are "O Silent Hands," "Variations to the Accompaniment of a Cloud," and "No Twilight." Really related to his experiences in some of these poems.
April 3, 2024
W. S. Merwin's recent collection, "Garden Time," is as beautiful as anything he's done before. His poems share the qualities of daylight shining through a window onto a floor - illuminating, ephemeral, and welcomed.
February 7, 2017
The old master, quiet, attentive, and at peace.
July 16, 2018
My friend Steve lent me this, and now I have to buy it (thanks, Steve!)...these are deceptively simple poems, ofiten very short, that open all sorts of doors and questions into the nature of memory, the passage of time and how to be present in the moment, and the shifting boundaries of what we call ourselves/the "I" in a poem or story. He at once recognizes the paradox of both the immense grandiosity and tiny insignificance of being one of millions of life forms on a spinning planet in the 21st century, both unlike and much the same as any other. Poignant and aching and delightful and refreshing. Especially loved The Wings of Daylight, The Other House, The Handwriting of the Old, From Time to Time, and A Breath of Day.
Read
March 23, 2022This book really swept up towards me by its end
May 6, 2025
This small book contains within it one of the greatest poems ever written: “THE PRESENT.” For that poem alone, this is worth reading.
September 28, 2016
A simply beautiful book of poetry. Merwin, one of our greatest living poets, writes brilliantly about growing older and contemplating existence, nature, and love. This is one of those books you just want hand out to everyone and demand that they read it. Simply put, it is a classic. Highest recommendation.
July 10, 2023
There will almost certainly be more Merwin books, given Copper Canyon's commitment to him and his legacy. But this may be the last book he put together in his lifetime.
He is an old man here, gardening in Hawaii, going blind, filled with memories of a lifetime of traveling and thinking. At this point he has completely mastered his unpunctuated style and uses it easily but with subtlety. It never gets in the way of a reader's understanding, not even when it forces us to slow down to Merwin's speed.
The poems are all short; there are only a few that go over one small page. And in some ways the overall feel is one of wisdom. Here is the brilliant old poet who has learned lots of things and wants to impart them before he leaves. Some readers may not like wisdom literature, and that is understandable. But there are also lots of poems that are clearly memories from a long life, and Merwin wants to make sure he gets those down, too. Here is just the beginning of "The Laughing Child" (notice how easy it is to read without punctuation):
When she looked down from the kitchen window
into the back yard and the brown wicker
baby carriage in which she had tucked me
three months old to lie out in the fresh air
of my first January the carriage
was shaking she said and went on shaking
and she saw I was lying there laughing
And since much of my year has been consumed by Vermeer, I was particularly pleased to find "The Mapmaker":
Vermeer's geographer goes on looking
out of the window at a world that he
alone sees while in the room around him
the light has not moved as the centuries
have revolved in silence behind their clouds
beyond the leaves the seasons the numbers
he has not seen them out of that window
the world he sees is there as we see him
looking out at the light there in the window
He is an old man here, gardening in Hawaii, going blind, filled with memories of a lifetime of traveling and thinking. At this point he has completely mastered his unpunctuated style and uses it easily but with subtlety. It never gets in the way of a reader's understanding, not even when it forces us to slow down to Merwin's speed.
The poems are all short; there are only a few that go over one small page. And in some ways the overall feel is one of wisdom. Here is the brilliant old poet who has learned lots of things and wants to impart them before he leaves. Some readers may not like wisdom literature, and that is understandable. But there are also lots of poems that are clearly memories from a long life, and Merwin wants to make sure he gets those down, too. Here is just the beginning of "The Laughing Child" (notice how easy it is to read without punctuation):
When she looked down from the kitchen window
into the back yard and the brown wicker
baby carriage in which she had tucked me
three months old to lie out in the fresh air
of my first January the carriage
was shaking she said and went on shaking
and she saw I was lying there laughing
And since much of my year has been consumed by Vermeer, I was particularly pleased to find "The Mapmaker":
Vermeer's geographer goes on looking
out of the window at a world that he
alone sees while in the room around him
the light has not moved as the centuries
have revolved in silence behind their clouds
beyond the leaves the seasons the numbers
he has not seen them out of that window
the world he sees is there as we see him
looking out at the light there in the window
November 24, 2016
Give this collection a few pages before you discover the understated eloquence of age and loss and love in the face of it all. While this is not his finest collection, Merwin offers us his truth with language that is accessible to those who do not regularly read poetry. Yet many of the poems have depth of thought and feeling and a koan kind of craft that belies what seems prosaic at first reading. I highly recommend it whether you are in the last third of life or just beginning your too short journey. Poetry like Merwin's helps us all to pay close attention both to the questions and to the only answers in the now.
Read
December 20, 2016On order.
June 14, 2017
"[Clouds] appear from out of sight and change as the moment passes through them." --"Summer Sky"
This is what the poems in this collection are like. Utterly gorgeous, changeable as clouds....
This is what the poems in this collection are like. Utterly gorgeous, changeable as clouds....
August 19, 2025
There is grief here, yes; Merwin is reckoning with departure. But this collection is mostly a faith-filled good-bye, a surrendered acceptance that we receive such fleeting gifts in this life and all we can really do is cherish the things we have now even as we continually forget what has gone.
the letters became abandoned buildings
whose doors never open and never close
untouched as places long loved in absence
(The Handwriting of the Old)
I personally struggle to read poems that lack any punctuation whatsoever. My eyes tend to glaze over sentences of their own accord, and entire poems will pass without my having comprehended anything at all. Preference aside, Merwin paces his lyrics well. I wonder what would have happened if he had fragmented the verse more, in a shape that emulated his diminishing eyesight throughout the writing of this collection.
. . . seeds began to fall
each one alone each in its own moment
coming in its blind hope to touch the earth
its recognition even in the dark
knowing at once the place that it has touched
the place where it belongs and came to stay
(Ripe Seeds Falling)
The last poem of the collection, “The Present,” is the best one. It’s clever, because when you close the book and peer once more at the cover, everything suddenly makes sense.
Some other favorite lines:
- “the ghosts go in under the walnut trees” (Morning Near the End of Day)
- “the dragonflies came out the color of water” (After the Dragonflies)
- “home for bats and swallows and patches / of sunlight wandering across the floors” and "my love was always / woven with leaving” (Variations to the Accompaniment of a Cloud)
- “the rill of waters slips past my fingertips” (Water Music)
- “I was born in autumn knowing the sound of summer” (One Sonnet of Summer)
the letters became abandoned buildings
whose doors never open and never close
untouched as places long loved in absence
(The Handwriting of the Old)
I personally struggle to read poems that lack any punctuation whatsoever. My eyes tend to glaze over sentences of their own accord, and entire poems will pass without my having comprehended anything at all. Preference aside, Merwin paces his lyrics well. I wonder what would have happened if he had fragmented the verse more, in a shape that emulated his diminishing eyesight throughout the writing of this collection.
. . . seeds began to fall
each one alone each in its own moment
coming in its blind hope to touch the earth
its recognition even in the dark
knowing at once the place that it has touched
the place where it belongs and came to stay
(Ripe Seeds Falling)
The last poem of the collection, “The Present,” is the best one. It’s clever, because when you close the book and peer once more at the cover, everything suddenly makes sense.
Some other favorite lines:
- “the ghosts go in under the walnut trees” (Morning Near the End of Day)
- “the dragonflies came out the color of water” (After the Dragonflies)
- “home for bats and swallows and patches / of sunlight wandering across the floors” and "my love was always / woven with leaving” (Variations to the Accompaniment of a Cloud)
- “the rill of waters slips past my fingertips” (Water Music)
- “I was born in autumn knowing the sound of summer” (One Sonnet of Summer)
March 27, 2025
the dragonflies came out of the color of water
knowing their own way
when we appeared in their eyes
we were strangers
they took their light with them when they went
there will be no one to remember us
-- "After the Dragonflies"
Li Po the little boat is gone
that carried you ten thousand li
downstream past the gibbons calling
all the way from both banks and they
too are gone and the forests they
were calling from and you are gone
and every sound you heard is gone
now there is only the river
that was always on its own ay
-- "River"
Here once more is the world of porcelain
distant but familiar like the morning
a land that does not know what it contains
with a language that was never spoken
and a white sky that has forgotten sound
a motionless place where someone stares out
from a bridge over no water flowing
and behind him someone bearing on one
shoulder a sack the same blue as his hair
pauses in mid-stride as he always did
and will do now for the rest of his life
someone else peers out of an empty house
at a world of changeless reassurance
that does not know us or forget us
-- "Breakfast Cup"
the letters became abandoned buildings
whose doors never open and never close
untouched as places long loved in absence
-- "The Handwriting of the Old"
It was always for the animals that I grieved most
-- "The Wild Geese"
There are spirits that come back to us
when we have grown into another age
we recognize them just as they leave us
we remember them when we cannot hear them
some of them come from the bodies of birds
some arrive unnoticed like forgetting
they do not recall earlier lives
and there are distant voices still hoping to find us
-- "Voices Over Water"
knowing their own way
when we appeared in their eyes
we were strangers
they took their light with them when they went
there will be no one to remember us
-- "After the Dragonflies"
Li Po the little boat is gone
that carried you ten thousand li
downstream past the gibbons calling
all the way from both banks and they
too are gone and the forests they
were calling from and you are gone
and every sound you heard is gone
now there is only the river
that was always on its own ay
-- "River"
Here once more is the world of porcelain
distant but familiar like the morning
a land that does not know what it contains
with a language that was never spoken
and a white sky that has forgotten sound
a motionless place where someone stares out
from a bridge over no water flowing
and behind him someone bearing on one
shoulder a sack the same blue as his hair
pauses in mid-stride as he always did
and will do now for the rest of his life
someone else peers out of an empty house
at a world of changeless reassurance
that does not know us or forget us
-- "Breakfast Cup"
the letters became abandoned buildings
whose doors never open and never close
untouched as places long loved in absence
-- "The Handwriting of the Old"
It was always for the animals that I grieved most
-- "The Wild Geese"
There are spirits that come back to us
when we have grown into another age
we recognize them just as they leave us
we remember them when we cannot hear them
some of them come from the bodies of birds
some arrive unnoticed like forgetting
they do not recall earlier lives
and there are distant voices still hoping to find us
-- "Voices Over Water"
January 22, 2018
This collection, written in Merwin's late 80s, explores the passing of time, sense of loss, and a love and longing for the natural world. His poetry is complex and delicate: this is the first collection of his that I have read, and I fear I may not have started in the right place. He is clearly building on themes he has been exploring throughout his life, as well as particular way of working with language and line. He uses no punctuation and I found his lineation perplexing at times. I spent a long time looking at lines like, "The taste of falling is something we / ignore but that we never forget" in the poem Untold and wondering why he chose to break after "we".
Some of his work soars, and some I find clumsy and trite. Fear for the future is obvious in the poem Here Together, but "I am clinging to you to keep you from / being swept away and you are clinging to me / to keep me from being swept away from you" are convoluted and don't add to the meaning of the poem. But there were also poems that allowed me to understand why Merwin is such a highly regarded poet, such as A Breath of Day, which is a mysterious and subtle poem that may be about birth, joy, memory, or something else. Merwin begins, "Last night I slept on the floor of the sea / in an unsounded part of the ocean / in the morning it was a long way up / through the dark streets of a silent country." At its best, Merwin's poetry is both elusive and full of assonance and imagery. I will seek out more of his work.
Some of his work soars, and some I find clumsy and trite. Fear for the future is obvious in the poem Here Together, but "I am clinging to you to keep you from / being swept away and you are clinging to me / to keep me from being swept away from you" are convoluted and don't add to the meaning of the poem. But there were also poems that allowed me to understand why Merwin is such a highly regarded poet, such as A Breath of Day, which is a mysterious and subtle poem that may be about birth, joy, memory, or something else. Merwin begins, "Last night I slept on the floor of the sea / in an unsounded part of the ocean / in the morning it was a long way up / through the dark streets of a silent country." At its best, Merwin's poetry is both elusive and full of assonance and imagery. I will seek out more of his work.
May 22, 2025
Gentle poems of pastoral scenes which allude to deeper thoughts on aging, decreptitude, and loss of sight. He wrote these short poems (most are 12-lines) without any punctuation. At first, I thought the lack of punctuation was going to disrupt my reading experience, but it really didn't. I liked the way he used a word or two to end one idea and also start the next.
This is a 3.5 star read. Good. Definitely made me feel, but those emotions were subtle, personal, ephemeral. I felt the places Merwin described rather than saw them through his vivid description. Here is an excerpt from "December Morning" of how he evokes a personal, internal reaction to his poem.
"... and I forget that
I am almost blind and I see the piles
of books I was going to read next
there they wait like statues of sitting dogs
faithful to someone they used to know"
These feel like poems to read again and again. Puzzles of beautiful words that will form different ideas in the mind of the reader at different moments in their life. They are quiet, meditative. Its easy to think they are unimportant. Until I was about halfway through the book, I was dubious. But then you feel the sadness, the yearning, the adour for the natural world and his wife disappearing from his view. Its there, behind the lovely descriptions of a lake and a canoe, a cup of green tea in the middle of the night, in a cowbell.
I'm keeping my copy. In our mad world, seeing these tranquil spots again through Merwin's fading eyes seems very healing.
This is a 3.5 star read. Good. Definitely made me feel, but those emotions were subtle, personal, ephemeral. I felt the places Merwin described rather than saw them through his vivid description. Here is an excerpt from "December Morning" of how he evokes a personal, internal reaction to his poem.
"... and I forget that
I am almost blind and I see the piles
of books I was going to read next
there they wait like statues of sitting dogs
faithful to someone they used to know"
These feel like poems to read again and again. Puzzles of beautiful words that will form different ideas in the mind of the reader at different moments in their life. They are quiet, meditative. Its easy to think they are unimportant. Until I was about halfway through the book, I was dubious. But then you feel the sadness, the yearning, the adour for the natural world and his wife disappearing from his view. Its there, behind the lovely descriptions of a lake and a canoe, a cup of green tea in the middle of the night, in a cowbell.
I'm keeping my copy. In our mad world, seeing these tranquil spots again through Merwin's fading eyes seems very healing.
August 15, 2018
Bill Merwin doesn't need a review. He is one of our most celebrated poets (a category of populism that, unfortunately, could reside in thimble, which is a metaphor itself no longer understood by most).
The copy of "Garden Time," which I now own, is used. I generally by used books. Ironically, it appears to have never been read. The sole indication that it is used is the stamp in red ink in the front of the book indicating that the book is a "Review Copy."
As a side note: I once refused a collect call from Bill Merwin. I was a grad student at the time, living on a small stipend. I knew who W. S. Merwin was, but I had no clue who "Bill" was.
The copy of "Garden Time," which I now own, is used. I generally by used books. Ironically, it appears to have never been read. The sole indication that it is used is the stamp in red ink in the front of the book indicating that the book is a "Review Copy."
As a side note: I once refused a collect call from Bill Merwin. I was a grad student at the time, living on a small stipend. I knew who W. S. Merwin was, but I had no clue who "Bill" was.
March 30, 2019
Merwin passed away the other week and I wanted to read something of his to observe and honor his life and death. This is what the library had on hand, and it was just right for an ending.
He writes of later years with a full heart. From “December Morning”
How did I come to this late happiness
as I wake into my remaining days
Customary nature themes are paired with the imagery of remembering and forgetting. We look back with Merwin and with him accept life for what it is, content with a goodness not spoiled by all the rest.
An understated spirituality fills the poems with the wisdom of presence and leaves a legacy of careful attention.
He writes of later years with a full heart. From “December Morning”
How did I come to this late happiness
as I wake into my remaining days
Customary nature themes are paired with the imagery of remembering and forgetting. We look back with Merwin and with him accept life for what it is, content with a goodness not spoiled by all the rest.
An understated spirituality fills the poems with the wisdom of presence and leaves a legacy of careful attention.
June 16, 2019
I admit that this is the second time I've started reading Garden Time, my first Merwin collection. The first time I was so tripped up by the complete lack of punctuation that I didn't make it very far before I gave up trying to read it. But Merwin's reputation is such that I was compelled to try again and I'm glad I did. The lack of punctuation means that the reader has to give himself or herself over fully to the poems in order to "get" them. The more fully one gives of oneself, the greater the payoff! This will not be my last Merwin collection. Not only did I enjoy this but, I believe, giving myself to it made me more capable of fully enjoying poetry in general.
April 2, 2019
I just discovered WS Merwin and suddenly need to read all his books. I first fell in love with his mysterious, allusive poems— the heavy enjambements and ranging ambiguities. This collection has its share of those, but many of these later poems are simpler in language and meaning, quiet depictions of his daily life with Paula. At first I was disappointed with these, but I have learned to love them too.
January 7, 2021
There were many stunning poems in here that I'll keep returning to time and again. I've long loved Merwin; this made me love his poetry even more. But my one complaint is that I wish this book had taught me more about how to structure a full-length collection. A biased review, sure (like all reviews): I was hoping to learn more about putting poems together in a collection and this book isn't it. And still, some of my favorite poems of all time are in this book. Gosh, Merwin!
Displaying 1 - 30 of 66 reviews