Skip to content

Wonder and Joy by Robinson Jeffers

By The Sunday Paper Team
Copy to clipboard M389.2 48h70.6L305.6 224.2 487 464H345L233.7 318.6 106.5 464H35.8L200.7 275.5 26.8 48H172.4L272.9 180.9 389.2 48zM364.4 421.8h39.1L151.1 88h-42L364.4 421.8z
Wonder and Joy by Robinson Jeffers

The things that one grows tired of—O, be sure
They are only foolish artificial things!
Can a bird ever tire of having wings?
And I, so long as life and sense endure,
(Or brief be they!) shall nevermore inure
My heart to the recurrence of the springs,
Of gray dawns, the gracious evenings,
The infinite wheeling stars. A wonder pure
Must ever well within me to behold
Venus decline; or great Orion, whose belt
Is studded with three nails of burning gold,
Ascend the winter heaven. Who never felt
This wondering joy may yet be good or great:
But envy him not: he is not fortunate.

—Robinson Jeffers

Please note that we may receive affiliate commissions from the sales of linked products.

Want to learn more about Sunday Paper PLUS?

You're invited to join our membership community! Sign up today to access Maria's "I've Been Thinking" essay archive, our new nonfiction book club Get Lit, the Above the Noise with Maria conversation series, weekly audio messages from Maria, and more exclusive content!

Become a Member
Device with Maria Shriver Sunday Paper