[Skip Navigation]

Plagiarist Poetry Sites: Plagiarist.com | Poetry X | Poetry Discussion Forums | Open Poetry Project | Joycean.org
Enter our Poetry Contest
Win Cash and Publication!

Plagiarist.com Archive

More poems by Richard WilburRichard Wilbur | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments (2) | Books by Richard WilburBooks by Richard Wilbur

Love Calls Us To The Things Of This World

Richard Wilbur

	The eyes open to a cry of pulleys,
And spirited from sleep, the astounded
                                                        soul
Hangs for a moment bodiless and
                                                     simple
As false dawn.
                      Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with
                                                   angels.

     Some are in bed-sheets, some are
                                              in blouses,
Some are in smocks: but truly there
                                                they are.
Now they are rising together in calm
                                                     swells
Of halcyon feeling, filling whatever they
                                                       wear
With the deep joy of their impersonal
                                              breathing;

     Now they are flying in place,
                                               conveying
The terrible speed of their
                           omnipresence, moving
And staying like white water; and now
                                            of a sudden
They swoon down in so rapt a quiet
That nobody seems to be there.
                                     The soul shrinks

    From all that it is about to remember,
From the punctual rape of every
                                           blessed day,
And cries,
               "Oh, let there be nothing on
                                  earth but laundry,
Nothing but rosy hands in the rising
                                                     steam
And clear dances done in the sight of
                                                heaven."

     Yet, as the sun acknowledges
With a warm look the world's hunks
                                             and colors,
The soul descends once more in bitter
                                                        love
To accept the waking body, saying now
In a changed voice as the man yawns
                                               and rises,

     "Bring them down from their ruddy
                                                 gallows;
Let there be clean linen for the backs
                                              of thieves;
Let lovers go fresh and sweet to be
                                                  undone,
And the heaviest nuns walk in a pure
                                                   floating
Of dark habits,
                       keeping their difficult
                                                balance."


Submitted by Robert Fish

Added: 30 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 19 Sep 2018 8:43 AM | Viewed: 17885 times

A PoetryNotes™ Analysis of Love Calls Us To The Things Of This World by Richard Wilbur, is Available!

A PoetryNotes™ eBook is available for this poem for delivery within 24 hours, and usually available within minutes during normal business hours.

ON SALE - only $29.95 19.95!

For more information...


URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/7150/ | Viewed on 19 September 2018.
Copyright ©2018 Plagiarist - All rights reserved.