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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=499125" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Love Calls Us To The Things Of This World</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The eyes open to a cry of pulleys,<br>And spirited from sleep, the astounded<br>    soul<br>Hangs for a moment bodiless and<br>    simple<br>As false dawn.<br>  Outside the open window<br>The morning air is all awash with<br>    angels.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Some are in bed-sheets, some are<br>   in blouses,<br>Some are in smocks: but truly there<br>   they are.<br>Now they are rising together in calm<br>    swells<br>Of halcyon feeling, filling whatever they<br>    wear<br>With the deep joy of their impersonal<br>   breathing;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Now they are flying in place,<br>   conveying<br>The terrible speed of their<br>  omnipresence, moving<br>And staying like white water; and now<br>   of a sudden<br>They swoon down in so rapt a quiet<br>That nobody seems to be there.<br>   The soul shrinks</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> From all that it is about to remember,<br>From the punctual rape of every<br>   blessed day,<br>And cries,<br> &quot;Oh, let there be nothing on<br>   earth but laundry,<br>Nothing but rosy hands in the rising<br>    steam<br>And clear dances done in the sight of<br>   heaven.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Yet, as the sun acknowledges<br>With a warm look the world's hunks<br>   and colors,<br>The soul descends once more in bitter<br>    love<br>To accept the waking body, saying now<br>In a changed voice as the man yawns<br>   and rises,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> &quot;Bring them down from their ruddy<br>    gallows;<br>Let there be clean linen for the backs<br>   of thieves;<br>Let lovers go fresh and sweet to be<br>    undone,<br>And the heaviest nuns walk in a pure<br>    floating<br>Of dark habits,<br>  keeping their difficult<br>   balance.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Submitted by Robert Fish</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Richard+Wilbur">Richard Wilbur</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=499125" data-title="Love Calls Us To The Things Of This World de Richard Wilbur" data-description="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..."></div>
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