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Donald Hall is an American poet and the 14th U.S. Poet Laureate.
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Donald Hall's poems
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To grow old is to lose everything.
Aging, everybody knows it.
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A storm was coming, that was why it was dark. The wind was blowing the fronds of the palm trees off. They were maples. I looked out the window across the big lawn. The house was huge, full of children and old people. The lion was loose. Either because of the wind, or by malevolent human energy, which is the same thing, the cage had come open. Suppose a child walked outside!
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The clock of my days winds down.
The cat eats sparrows outside my window.
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Katie could put her feet behind her head
Or do a grand plié, position two,
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Mount Kearsarge shines with ice; from hemlock branches
snow slides onto snow; no stream, creek, or river
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In a week or ten days
the snow and ice
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In the mid August, in the second year
of my First Polar Expedition, the snow and ice of winter
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All winter your brute shoulders strained against collars, padding
and steerhide over the ash hames, to haul
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It has happened suddenly,
by surprise, in an arbor,
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