A Poem for Saturday Afternoon

Mozart, For Example
By Mary Oliver


All the quick notes

Mozart didn’t have time to use

before he entered the cloud-boat


are falling now from the beaks

of the finches

that have gathered from the joyous summer


into the hard winter

and, like Mozart, they speak of nothing

but light and delight,


though it is true, the heavy blades of the world

are still pounding underneath.

And this is what you can do too, maybe,


if you live simply and with a lyrical heart

in the cumbered neighborhoods or even,

as Mozart sometimes managed to do, in a palace,


offering tune after tune,

making some hard-hearted prince

prudent and kind, just by being happy.

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