Jane Kenyon
A poem by Jane Kenyon
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““By suppertime all that remains is the scent of balsam fir. If it's darkness we're having, let it be extravagant.””
Wild Geese
One Art
Those Winter Sundays
Sorrow
What the Living Do
Meditations in an Emergency
Learn a Poem This Week (NYT Poetry Challenge)
The Peace of Wild Things
Cartoon Physics, part 1
Spell to Be Said Upon Departure
What Is the Measure
Let the Day Go
