One of the things that most defines good poetry for me is what I would call its “evocativeness.” Does the poet not just describe a setting but evoke a feeling, a memory, a sensory reaction? Jane Kenyon absolutely does that in her poem “Let Evening Come.” Whether you grew up in...

There is something so irresistibly sad, or melancholy, or nostalgic, about Sara Teasdale’s poem “Water Lilies” that I find absolutely haunting. Actually, none of those words – sad, melancholy, nostalgic – is quite right. And maybe that’s what I like about this poem: it evokes a...

I love the audacity of John Donne’s poem – taking on death itself, unmasking it for what it is, challenging it in light of the resurrection. He gains his courage, I think, from the Apostle Paul, who invites Donne – and all of us – to see death along with all the other realities of this...

Holy Saturday, for all practical purposes, is usually given over to preparing for Sunday. Making sure the ham has been purchased and ready to cook, decorating eggs, readying decorations, cleaning the house. But once in a while – or perhaps even for just a few moments of the day – it might...

I have spent the last week in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, visiting family and friends we haven’t seen for too long. We were eager to escape the clutches of another long and cold Minnesota winter, if even for a few days, but chanced upon just the kind of spring William Carlos Williams...

W. H. Auden’s long narrative poem “For the Time Being” is subtitled “A Christmas Oratio” because it focuses on the birth of Christ. But I’ve always thought it reads better after Christmas, sometime during the long winter that stretches into February (or, if you live in Minnesota,...