English poetry

Poems in English

The Lark

The Lark

And I have seen,
At dawn,
The lark
Spin out of the long grass
And into the pink air –
Its wings,
Which are neither wide
Nor overstrong,
Fluttering –
The pectorals
Ploughing and flashing
For nothing but altitude –
And the song
Bursting
All the while
From the red throat.
And then he descends,
And is sorry.
His little head hangs
And he pants for breath
For a few moments
Among the hoops of the grass,
Which are crisp and dry,
Where most of his living is done –
And then something summons him again
And up he goes,
His shoulders working,
His whole body almost collapsing and floating
To the edges of the world.
We are reconciled, I think,
To too much.
Better to be a bird, like this one –
An ornament of the eternal.
As he came down once, to the nest of the grass,
“Squander the day, but save the soul, “
I heard him say.



Poem The Lark - Mary Oliver