Wendell Berry Poems >>
Though the air is full of singing
my head is loud
with the labor of words.
Though the season is rich
with fruit, my tongue
hungers for the sweet of speech.
Though the beech is golden
I cannot stand beside it
mute, but must say
"It is golden," while the leaves
stir and fall with a sound
that is not a name.
It is in the silence
that my hope is, and my aim.
A song whose lines
I cannot make or sing
sounds men's silence
like a root. Let me say
and not mourn: the world
lives in the death of speech
and sings there.
More Poetry from Wendell Berry:
Wendell Berry Poems based on Topics: World, Death & Dying, Silence, Name, Speech, Singing, Labor
- Woods (Wendell Berry Poem)
- Water (Wendell Berry Poem)
- Testament (Wendell Berry Poem)
- The Country Of Marriage (Wendell Berry Poem)
- The Lilies (Wendell Berry Poem)
- The Wish to be Generous (Wendell Berry Poem)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: World Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Name Poems, Silence Poems, Singing Poems, Speech Poems, Labor Poems
Based on Keywords: sounds, aim, lines, stir, rich, season, mourn, fruit, root, mute, beech
- The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto II (Richard Savage Poems)
- A Postscript unto the Reader (Michael Wigglesworth Poems)
- The Rural Life In New England. Canto Second (Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney Poems)
- The Believer's Espousals : Chapter III. (Ralph Erskine Poems)
- Contest Between Beauty And Wealth, (Mary Abel Clinckett Poems)