Let us take the river
path near Fall Hill.
There we will negotiate
an outcrop with its silvered
initials & other bits of graffiti,
all the way to the broken edge
that overlooks the bend,
& hold hands until
we can no longer tell
where the river ends.
The natural world has been one of the recurring subjects of poetry, frequently the primary one, in every age and every country. Yet we cannot easily define nature, which, as Gary Snyder points out in his preface to No Nature (1992), “will not fulfill our conceptions or assumptions” and “will dodge our expectations and theoretical models.” Yet the urge to describe the natural world—its various landscapes, its changing seasons, its surrounding phenomena—has been an inescapable part of the history of poetry.
|1917||[The grass is beneath my head]||F. S. Flint|
|1917||[Immortal?... No,]||F. S. Flint|
|2013||[I'm not with my]||Joshua Beckman|
|1807||[I wandered lonely as a Cloud]||William Wordsworth|
|1899||[Aye, workman, make me a dream]||Stephen Crane|
|2011||Year of the Amateur||Cathy Park Hong|
|1825||Work Without Hope||Samuel Taylor Coleridge|
|2011||Woman Waving to Trees||Dorothea Tanning|
|2011||Wolf Cento||Simone Muench|