Every poem in this book is a gem, and the collection made me want to read her complete works. While this is definitely not "religious poetry" of the greeting card variety, it is an expression of a deep spiritual awareness. Oliver's poems often reveal an amazement and wonder at being alive. Poetic skill and heightened awareness are so well-integrated, those who are looking for well-crafted poetry will certainly find it, and those who are looking for an awakening of consciousness may also find that.

Although Oliver's environment, her field of play, is nature, I wouldn't reduce her to a "naturalist poet." Nature is always interpreted and absorbed by her vision. Nature reveals its secrets to her, but they are the secrets of her own soul. In her poetry, nature is the oracle that reveals the human psyche.

But I should include Oliver's own words, because no prose critique can do justice to the intoxicating natural imagery of her poems. In the poem "Peonies", the richness and fertility of nature mirror the same qualities of the imagination:

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready to break my heart

as the sun rises,

as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open- pools of lace,

white and pink- and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes into the curls,

craving the sweet sap,...

The poem ends with a challenge that reverberates through the book. In spite of the sense of death looming sometimes on the edge of the poem (and our lives), sometimes at the center, are we willing to fully experience life?

Do you love this world?

Do you cherish your humble and silky life?

Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,

and softly,

and exclaiming of their dearness,

fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,

their eagerness

to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are

nothing forever?

With a Pulitzer and a National Book Award, Mary Oliver's poems will catch one's attention. But besides the kudos, this is plainly incredible writing. Her poetry comes closer to the sensibility, depth, and power of Emily Dickinson's writing than anyone in history. Yet Oliver is not a copycat version of the lady in white. Oliver's Nature has its very own stylistic plumes and claws. In a world of mainstream and so-what poetry, Oliver's insights continually cause me to catch my breath and say, Oh, yes. If you love poetry, if you occasionally collect a special volume, or if you're a novice poetry reader who doesn't want to get lost in the "wherefor's" and wails of pompous or confessional poetry, this is a book to own and love again and again

In a recent interview, poet Jane Hirshfield said: "As a flint holds the spark, each good poem holds a hidden bit of life--knowledge that its reading releases in us and we in it. Poetry returns me to the sense of the infinite possibility that dwells in each particular thing, and also returns me to the flavor and scent and textures of the particular, where the infinite must reside. But Blake put this much better: 'To see a world in a grain of sand/ And a heaven in a wildflower.' Each good poem reopens that gate, reminds us how such seeing is done" ("The Bloomsbury Review," July/August 2001). Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, Mary Oliver, has the gift of writing such poetry, and it is no surprise that this collection of verse won the National Book Award.

I revisited this 1992 collection of NEW AND SELECTED POEMS after reading Oliver's equally stunning THE LEAF AND THE CLOUD. "The dream of my life/ Is to lie down by a slow river/ And stare at the light in the trees," she writes in "Entering the Kingdom;" "To learn something by being nothing/ A little while but the rich/ Lens of attention" (p. 190). In her poetry, Oliver reveals her ability to pay attention to life in a deep way. "I don't know exactly what a prayer is," she writes in "The Summer Day." "I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down/ into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,/ how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,/ which is what I have been doing all day./ Tell me, what else should I have done?/ Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?/ Tell me, what is it you plan to do/ with your one wild and precious life?" (p. 94). In her poetry, Oliver experiences life at the edge of her senses. In "Landscape," she says, "Every morning I walk like this around/ the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart/ ever close, I am as good as dead" (p. 129).

Much of Oliver's poetry is drawn from nature, where we find God speaking to her of "so many wise and delectable things" through dirt, in "his dog voice/ crow voice,/ frog voice" (pp. 120-21). In "Spring Azures," Oliver writes "In spring the blue azures bow down/ at the edges of shallow puddles/ to drink the black rain water" (p. 8). In "Peonies," she writes, "This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready/ to break my heart/ as the sun rises,/ as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers" (p. 21). In "The Moths," Oliver observes "The wings of the moths catch the sunlight/ and burn/ so brightly" (p. 133). For her, the "Trick of living" is finding Walden "where you are" (p. 239). "Do you love this world," she asks. "Do you cherish your humble and silky life?/ Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?" (p. 22).

I could go on all day praising this book. Mary Oliver is one of my favorite poets, and this collection is one of my favorite books of poetry. It offers a radiant introduction to Oliver's verse, and it will also provide a good introduction to the pleasures of reading really good poetry.

G. Merritt

With the loss of Colonial Homes magazine, Christmas ideas with a American colonial theme are becoming rare. The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation along with Libby Hodges Oliver and Mary Miley Theobald have created not only a historical account of early American celebrations, but a beautifully designed and photographed book. Decorating starts outside with simple wreaths and pine roping to more elaborate fruited creations. Inside the greenery continues along with ideas on table decorations,the Christmas feast and best way to spoil Christmas guests. Chapters cover candles to Christmas trees along with colonial revival and twenty first century interpretations. This book will be a welcome inspiration for anyone looking for Christmas ideas and traditions.

Informative (and occasionally surprising!) text accompanied by exquisite photographs of the holiday decorating style known as Colonial Williamsburg.

The text is coordinated effectively with the photographs to which it refers, making this a helpful guide for those interested in recreating or adapting the patterns for their own decorations. Lists of fruits and greenery that are or are not historically valid as well as diagrams for constructing bases for fan-style and pyramid decorations are both practical and helpful. For those preferring merely to look rather than do, it's still a lovely holiday visit to Williamsburg.

With its lively, readable text and beautiful photography, Williamsburg Christmas is a must have book for anyone who enjoys Colonial history and Williamsburg. It makes you want to make that visit to Williamsburg during the Christmas holidays.

Prior to reading this book, I had already read several volumes of Mary Oliver's poetry, as well as a book of her nonfiction. So I knew what to expect: beautifully concise language, lovely descriptions, and some insightful observations about the natural world and about life. What struck me most about this book was its similarity to the nonfiction of Annie Dillard, another of my favorite writers who deal with both the natural world and the craft of writing. Certain essays in this book reminded me of "Teaching a Stone to Talk," which is another book remarkable for its economical prose. I enjoyed learning some of Oliver's philosophies about the purpose of a writer, and I appreciated her observations about writers who inspired her, particularly Edna St. Vincent Millay and Walt Whitman. She writes well about everything from owls to deer to poetry, and it all comes across as effortless and seamless (though she shows us that the process itself is anything but smooth). I loved this book, although I would say that the best introduction to Mary Oliver is through her poetry: I recommend "White Pine" or "Dream Work." If you already like Mary Oliver, this book won't disappoint you!

This book is exquisite. Thanks to Mary Oliver, I have begun to open my eyes, ears, and soul once more. Her poetry, all her observations, are so moving and her connection to life and what really matters has made me reexamine my own "wild and precious life." I wish I could thank Mary Oliver in person for her poetry and her dazzling insights!

Whatever you believe to be the truth you must read this book. Mary tugged at my heart so intently that I broke down and cried. She seems to possess a consciousness that eludes much of humanity and I wonder how did we let that happen. Mary offers no answers, but she stimulates thought and hopefully her writing will lead her readers to perhaps even conscious thought. I will read this book over and over and over again

A book that most readers can identify with!

I loved this book. It is well written, easy to read, and fun. The poems have a musical lilt, almost like jazz. The topics are of everyday life things that happen to all of us all the time. Good work.

This collection of poetry does what truly great poetry should do -- it touches so truly and so deeply upon the human condition -- the joy and the suffering of it -- that the personal voice of the poet becomes, as Galway Kinnell once wrote, just another voice of a creature on the planet speaking. Whether speaking of difficult or joyous times, the loss of love or its fond remembrance, the naming of a child, aging, or death, the poet's words enliven, enrich and expand the reader's own experience, outwitting despair, careening toward joy, encountering pain with courage, and then letting that pain go to the "dirt-borers," whose job it is to turn the dead back into the living again. This is poetry that can save your life on those dark winter nights when the only voice you can hear is the one of your own despair. If I had to choose one or two voices to have with me on such nights, voices to sail the psyche's frail ship to morning's shore, Ms. Fargnoli's would be chief among them.

Drawn from the pages of The Amicus Journal (a quarterly publication of the Natural Resources Defense Council), the poets and poetry selected by Brian Swan for Poetry Comes Up Where It Can reflect the common them of struggling with issues of nature and the environment during the final decade of the millennium. Windfall: Eating an apple, I think of Emerson/in another railroad berth/traveling to another Chautauqua. This time,//maybe it's summer, he's passing/apple orchards in Ohio where/he half dreams a bumblebee//sipping nectar--in it belly, a mite/glows with mite joy. In the mite's belly,/other living things the size of atoms//climb mountains...but he's tired/of revelation. It's certain the cosmos/is an orchard, or tree, or single bee//bearing the whole apple future, & Boston,/from one field to another,/& bearing him. He'll lecture this audience//to find & live the secret of any windfall,/to try, for god's sake, to love//that which is obvious, & themselves.

Drawn from the pages of The Amicus Journal (a quarterly publication of the Natural Resources Defense Council), the poets and poetry selected by Brian Swan for Poetry Comes Up Where It Can reflect the common them of struggling with issues of nature and the environment during the final decade of the millennium. Windfall: Eating an apple, I think of Emerson/in another railroad berth/traveling to another Chautauqua. This time,//maybe it's summer, he's passing/apple orchards in Ohio where/he half dreams a bumblebee//sipping nectar--in it belly, a mite/glows with mite joy. In the mite's belly,/other living things the size of atoms//climb mountains...but he's tired/of revelation. It's certain the cosmos/is an orchard, or tree, or single bee//bearing the whole apple future, & Boston,/from one field to another,/& bearing him. He'll lecture this audience//to find & live the secret of any windfall,/to try, for god's sake, to love//that which is obvious, & themselves.

Sister Bridget has done a remarkable job researching and bringing to life the reality behind the myths about the lives and accomplishments of these strong women who shed the roles they were born into and helped shape the Celtic religious beliefs for Pagans and Christians alike. Bridget Mary Meehan has shown me the Catholic religion can change and grow to allow women their rightful place in history. I hope women (and men) will read this book and realize the incredible importance women had in the development of religion in the Celtic world and take pride in these strong women who attained equal footing for all time.

...At age 76, I'm getting too old and set in my ways to deal with a fresh, sparky book like this by a couple of women who apparently couldn't care less what some male out of the past might think of them. The authors are celtic holy women themselves, no doubt about it. (Pronounce that kel-tic" -- unless they play basketball.) The celtic women inside the book turn out to be some twenty-one legendary, mostly celibate, holy characters too, often associated with one of the sacred wells that bubble in that part of the world by the thousands.
In the book wonder-filled legends are recounted unapologetically: you can make of them what you like. Into the mix go accounts of what happened on their own trip to the shrines. For people who want to make the pilgrimage that Bridget and Regina made, or want to do so through their private prayers, a lovely ritual is provided in each chapter. Then come discussion questions. A nice job, testifying to immense enthusiasm judiciously salted by the courageous conviction of women's full equality with men. Equality or better.
We might personally disdain "superstition" when we encounter it in ancient societies, but I would guess that the mentality that produced it is healthy. Our world is well described as magical in many aspects. Science has its superstitions too. Almost every scientist believes in the Big Bang, but what actually happened 4000 million years ago made no bang (there was no air) and was exceedingly small (expanding from a minute beginning). The thousands of "holy wells" in Ireland are considered awesome for the same reason as is the Big Bang. It's something wonderful, and no one seems to understand how it happened. Both seem the voice of the Divine..
The companion authors are women Religious, Meehan being the best known. She is surely a writer after my own heart. She has written and published 19 books by various small publishers, so, like myself, she obviously doesn't give up easily. Trying to get my lifeguard certificate at summer camp, a counselor fished me out coughing up water and said: "You passed, you passed," though I knew I hadn't. That's the trick for people like Bridget and me: never say die, even when you're restless heart is choking on great dreams. If St. Peter tries to detour her from heaven, he's in trouble.
This beautiful new book is a paperback for a hefty price, but you'll love the color plates that justify the expense. Who can blame a feminist for wanting her heroines to look their best? A beautiful Mary shines out from the Book of Kells. (The Blessed Mother once visited Ireland, you know.) St. Non glows from a flashy stain glass window -- as does "Brigit" herself. You even get a color view of Bantry Bay in Cork where St. Cannera hung out in "a small hermitage" back in the sixth century. You may ask, how do you get through the day as a solitary lady in the sixth century? My guess is you don't. You may call yourself a hermit, but there had to be a crew of a dozen people who brought food, washed linen, emptied the trash, walked the dog and brought you the news, not to mention someone to say Mass, lead the singing of hymns, and hear the confession of sins - if there are any. For Cannera's sake, I hope there were at least a few. Her life story suggests as much.
On the book's cover there's a lady Excellency leaning on her crosier, wearing a red halo around her head, and carrying a bible face up in her arm like she's selling it door-to-door. I don't find her identified in the book but I suppose she's Bishop Bridget. She looks dangerous, like someone who would ordain a woman priest in a heartbeat. She's definitely someone to look out for.
Should we not honor the Faithful Departed? In so-called primitive societies the people often felt the presence of their ancestors, and why not? Both physics and evolutionary theory insist that nothing in creation is ever destroyed but merely changed, so why should something as undeniably real and unique as a celtic holy woman - or ourselves, for that matter -- cease to exist? That would be an evolutionary anomaly.
So perhaps at last - with books like this to help us -- moderns will catch up to primitive societies and learn to live in an awareness of ancestors around us, welcoming into the present all the holy women and men, our departed parents, for instance, who had so much to do with who we are. My Irish cousin-in-law once walked me to a holy well near her home in County Down, a place she frequently goes to pray. There she talks to her departed husband, agonizing mostly, she says, because of "the awful silence." I was touched. None of us can do religion or science without our imaginations to help deal with the impenetrable mysteries on all sides. Books like this one ease an otherwise awful silence. Good work. #

All I can say is Emerson changed my life. Once I read "Self-Reliance" in school, his writing sparked my interest. I read a few more of his essays, then became "addicted" to this book. Despite its length, I read all of his essays and poems in 6 months. I highly recommend this book to anyone. Emerson is a genius. Everyone should read at least one of Emerson's essays in their lifetime. They are amazing.

After perusing the wonderful assortment of Emerson's work in this marvelous compendium, I was inspired by the sheer genius of this man. I found his work inspirational because it reminded me how insightful and profound we humans can be. As we go through the day-to-day of modern life, it has become apparent that our culture believes the more basic you speak the more real you are being---well after reading Emerson, modern "realness" can take a hike. Here's to the intellect!

Buy this book, sit back and read what thoughts we are capable of forging, and enjoy!

After reading the essay, "Self Reliance," I had a new perspective on my own intellectual capacity.

Emerson's faith in reason, truth, and the potential of the individual, are inspiring.

These essays are a great introduction to learning to trust yourself to find your own spiritual path.

He is religious with out being dogmatic. He wonderfully marries the intellect with wonder. mmmm.

Highly recommended.

This book, like much of Mary Oliver's work, breathes with true poetry, the beauty of nature, the spirit of life and dreams. This isn't just fancy wordplay.

I will be teaching language arts. I plan to use Mary Oliver in the classroom to get students interested in poetry. She writes in such a down to earth manner that she can be understood and discussed by people who aren't really "into poetry". Oliver gives us a new angle to look at the world with - but one that can be related to easily.

If Dream Work was composed only of one poem - Wild Geese- it would receive 5 stars! In this poem alone Mary Oliver captures the heart of our souls. It is my "mantra".

As always, Mary Oliver's poetry simply takes my breath away. It is at the same time bound to earth and ethereal. She seems to be contemplating mortality, as well as the wonder of life as we live. Although one long poem, each stanza is a poem unto itself, each word a butterfly in your window.

I have to admit that I am in love with Mary Oliver's poetry. She is not only a master writer but seeing the world through her eyes is like looking through a prism of nature only to discover how the various parts of our humanity are reflected outside of ourselves. Be patient, a poem is short but not something to be read in haste. Any good poem like this one requires at least two readings to allow the metaphors and images to seep into the depths of our being. Further, some good poetry is only clever while great poetry such as this miniature epic, is for the heart, working its magic by slowly catching us unaware as it lifts us up -- like a leaf or a cloud, or both together --- and in the end gently leaving us off somewhere refreshingly new, a place where we are offhandedly aware of having experienced the breadth and nobility of our inner self. (Isn't that the highest calling of all great art?). It is Mary Oliver's only epic work where somehow all the poems relate to each other but not as a plot or continuous story, but more like all the elements in a wild mountain meadow or a forested glen are perceived as relating to each other. Once beginning to read it from the first page, you will soon find yourself hypnotically drawn to its completion about 30 or 45 minutes later. If you are a Mary Oliver fan, don't look for individual poetic gems such as White Cloud or Wild Geese (they are there but less obvious to allow the whole to emerge. After writing this review on a slightly overcast summer saturday morning, I feel the gentle urge to return to the coziness of my bed and read it over again.

Mary Oliver is one of my favorite poets. (I recommend her NEW AND SELECTED POEMS (1993).) Although I could easily praise this new book of poems all day, I will keep my comments short. Oliver has taken the title of this book from John Ruskin, who wrote: "Between the earth and man arose the leaf. Between the heaven and man came the cloud. His life being partly as the falling leaf, and partly as the flying vapour." This reference is helpful, I think, in showing that Oliver's seven-poem progression is as much a meditation on the wonders of the natural world ("Everyday--I stare at the world; I push the grass aside/ and stare at the world," p. 9), as it is a profound prayer ("I look up/ into the faces of the stars,/ into their deep silence" p. 44).

Oliver is not the first poet to observe "heaven in a wildflower," but she has the unique ability to find poetry in nature. "What secrets fly out of the earth/ when I push the shovel-edge/ when I heave the dirt open?" (p. 21). She also writes, "It may be the rock in the field is also a song" (p. 14), and "maybe the world, without us,/ is the real poem" (p. 17). The poetry Oliver witnesses in the natural world is synonymous with God's presence. Through nature's beauty and mystery, Oliver discovers "If God exists he isn't just butter and good luck--/ he isn't just the summer day the red rose/ he's the snake he's the mouse,/ he's the hole in the ground" (p. 50).

The poetry here is earthy yet spiritual, simple yet profound. "Words are thunders of the mind" (p. 12). In addition to Ruskin and Blake, there are echoes of Whitman, Emerson, and Plato in these poems. This may be the best book of new poems I've read this year. It is also a good starting point for anyone who has never experienced the pleasures of poetry before.

G. Merritt

The poems bring us close to nature and enable us to create a link of awareness that is sometimes soft, sometimes shattering. We are connected closely to the animals and birds - "The Kookaburras" made me cry. The reality of death is treated in a way that makes us pay attention and live NOW and know that when we are enveloped by that vast darkness, as everything eventually is, it will be alright.

I've read just about everything that Mary Oliver has written...and something about "House of Light" makes me sit up and LISTEN to the natural world. These poems -- I think especially of "The Kookaburras" -- invite us to become more accountable for every thought, action, and gesture. Mary's poems break my heart open again and again; they're soul-food for me; they remind me of what is essential. Mary is a compassionate witness for the exquisite minutae of life.

I read this book on the recommendation of a friend, and found it to be a spiritually-filling experience. I particularly like the imagery of "The Ponds". Read it, all of you!