English poetry

Poems in English

The Rapture

All summer
I wandered the fields
That were thickening
Every morning,

Every rainfall,
With weeds and blossoms,
With the long loops
Of the shimmering, and the extravagant-

Pale as flames they rose
And fell back,
Replete and beautiful-
That was all there was-

And I too
Once or twice, at least,
Felt myself rising,
My boots

Touching suddenly the tops of the weeds,
The blue and silky air-
Passion did it,

Called me forth,
Addled me,
Stripped me clean
Then covered me with the cloth of happiness-

I think there is no other prize,
Only rapture the gleaming,
Rapture the illogical the weightless-

Whether it be for the perfect shapeliness
Of something you love-
Like an old German song-
Or of someone-

Or the dark floss of the earth itself,
Heavy and electric.
At the edge of sweet sanity open
Such wild, blind wings.

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Poem The Rapture - Mary Oliver