The Lark
You said that you loved the lark more than any other bird because of its straight flight toward the sun. That is how I wanted our flight to be.
Albatrosses fly over the sea, intoxicated by salt and iodine. They are like unfettered waves playing in the air, but they do not lose touch with the other waves.
Storks make long journeys; they cast shadows over the Earth's face. But like albatrosses, they fly horizontally, resting in the hills.
Only the lark leaps out of ruts like a live dart, and rises, swallowed by the heavens. Then the sky feels as though the Earth itself has risen. Heavy jungles below do not answer the lark. Mountains crucified over the flatlands do not answer.
But a winged arrow quickly shoots ahead, and it sings between the sun and the Earth. One does not know if the bird has come down from the sun or risen from the Earth. It exists between the two, like a flame. When it has serenaded the skies with its abundance, the exhausted lark lands in the wheatfield.
You, Francis, wanted us to achieve that vertical flight, without a zigzag, in order to arrive at that haven where we could rest in the light.
You wanted the morning air filled with arrows, with a multitude of carefree larks. Francis, with each morning song, you imagined that a net of golden larks floated between the Earth and the sky.
We are burdened, Francis. We cherish our lukewarm rut: our habits. We exalt ourselves in glory just as the towering grass aspires. The loftiest blade does not reach beyond the high pines.
Only when we die do we achieve that vertical flight! Never again, held back by earthly ruts, will our bodies inhibit our souls.
poem by Gabriela Mistral
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Sky-Lark’s Song
WINGED voice to tell the skies of earth,
Dear earth-born lark, sing on, sing clear,
Sing into heaven that she may hear
;Sing what thou wilt, so she but know
Thine ecstasy of summer mirth
And think ''Tis from the world below!'
Instant, old wont returns fresh brought,
And her desire goes seeking me,
For whom her whole world used to be
And all my world for sake of her;
She cannot think an earthward thought
That shall not seem my messenger.
She will be glad for love, and smile,
Saying 'Thank God for joy like ours:
Saying 'There come the kind home hours:
His work-day will be sped ere long,
That keeps him hence this little while.
'Sing, lark, until she know thy song.
Sing of the earth, but sing no care,
Sing thine own measureless content;
She will remember what it meant;
Griefs are too base, but, carolling thus,
Thou with thy joy mayst reach her there,
And she joy too remembering us.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ecstasy
The shore-lark soars to his topmost flight,
Sings at the height where morning springs,
What though his voice be lost in the light,
The light comes dropping from his wings.
Mount, my soul, and sing at the height
Of thy clear flight in the light and the air,
Heard or unheard in the night in the light
Sing there! Sing there!
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Question Answered
I saw the lark at break of day
Rise from its dewy bed,
And, winged with melody, away
Circle to Heaven o'erhead.
I watched it higher and higher soar,
Still ceasing not to trill,
When, though I could descry no more
Its flight, I heard it still.
But shortly quavered back its note,
And, hovering into sight,
I saw it, homeward sinking, float
Over its nest of night.
``Tell me,'' I cried, ``glad songster, why
You, privileged to wend
Up to the blue and boundless sky,
Where only wings ascend,
``Full into Heaven, to look and gaze
Whither our thoughts aspire,
And, unrebuked, terrestrial lays
Blend with celestial choir,
``Why you, thus welcomed to the height
Of minstrelsy and mirth,
Pavilioned high from mortal sight,
Come back again to Earth.''
Then shook the lark again its wings,
And, fluttering o'er its bed
Deep-bosomed in the grassy floor,
In rippling answer said:-
``'Tis joy to mount, alone, aloft,
Into the ether clear,
And thence look down on garth and croft
Of red-roofed hamlets here.
``To sing my song through endless space,
Towering above, above,
While mortals watch with upturned face
Of longing and of love;
``Then, for a while, unseen to pass
Through unsubstantial dome,
But treble back to tangled grass-
Not Heaven, withal my home.
``And tell me, when I skyward sing,
Am I unlike to you,
That on Imagination's wing
Strain sometimes out of view
``Into the radiant Realms untrod
Song can alone descry,
And whilom join, by grace of God,
Angelic company
``Yet sink down from the firmament
Back to life's dearth and dole,
Knowing full well that song was sent
To comfort and console.''
poem by Alfred Austin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Not To Be
THE rose said 'Let but this long rain be past,
And I shall feel my sweetness in the sun
And pour its fullness into life at last.'
But when the rain was done,
But when dawn sparkled through unclouded air,
She was not there.
The lark said 'Let but winter be away,
And blossoms come, and light, and I will soar,
And lose the earth, and be the voice of day.'
But when the snows were o'er,
But when spring broke in blueness overhead,
The lark was dead.
And myriad roses made the garden glow,
And skylarks carolled all the summer long—
What lack of birds to sing and flowers to blow?
Yet, ah, lost scent, lost song!
Poor empty rose, poor lark that never trilled!
Dead unfulfilled!
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Arrow and the Song
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Arrow and the Song, The
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Smoke
Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird,
Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight,
Lark without song, and messenger of dawn
Circling above the hamlets as they nest;
Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form
Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
By night star-veiling, and by day
Darkening the light and blotting out the sun;
Go thou my incense upward from this hearth,
And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.
poem by Henry David Thoreau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Light-Winged Smoke
LIGHT-WINGED Smoke, Icarian bird,
Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight,
Lark without song, and the messenger of dawn,
Circling above the hamlets as thy nest;
Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form
Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
By night star-veiling, and by day
Darkening the light and blotting out the sun;
Go thou my incense upward from this hearth,
And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.
poem by Henry David Thoreau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Francesco and Clare
It was there, in that little town On top of the mountain, they walked, Francesco and Chiara, That's who they were, that's what They told themselves--a joke, their joke About two saints, failed lovers held apart From the world of flesh, Francis and Clare, Out walking the old city, two saints, Sainted ones, holy, held close to the life... Poverty, the pure life, the one Life for Franziskus and Klara, Stalwarts given To the joys of God in heaven And on earth, Mother, praising Brother Sun And sister Moon; twin saints, unified In their beauty as one, Francisco and Clara, A beauty said of God's will and word, bestowed And polished by poverty, François With Claire, the chosen poverty, the true Poverty that would not be their lives... And they took their favorite names, Clare and Francesco, Walking the streets of stone the true saints Walked, watching as the larks swirled Above the serene towers, the larks Francesco once described as the color Of goodness, that is, of the earth, of the dead... Larks who'd not seek for themselves any extravagant Plumage, humble and simple, God's birds Twirling and twisting up the pillowing air... And Francesco said to Clare, Oh little plant I love,
My eyes are almost blind with Brother Sun...tell me,
Who hides inside God's time...? And Clare, rock of all Poor Clares, stood In the warm piazza overlooking the valley, weary, Her shoulder bag sagging from the weight Of her maps and books, and said across the rain-slick Asphalt of the parking lot, to the poor bird climbing The wheel of sky it always had loved best, Dear lark, dear saint, all my kisses on your nest!
poem by David St. John
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Knight's Return
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
The were wolves mutter, the night hawks moan,
The raven croaks from the Raven-stone;
What care I for his boding groan,
Riding the moorland to come to mine own?
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
Long have I wander'd by land and by sea,
Long have I ridden by moorland and lea;
Yonder she sits with my babe on her knee,
Sits at the window and watches for me!
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
Written for music, 1857.
poem by Charles Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In the Train
As we rush, as we rush in the Train,
The trees and the houses go wheeling back,
But the starry heavens above the plain
Come flying on our track.
All the beautiful stars of the sky,
The silver doves of the forest of Night,
Over the dull earth swarm and fly,
Companions of our flight.
We will rush ever on without fear;
Let the goal be far, the flight be fleet!
For we carry the Heavens with us, dear,
While the Earth slips from our feet!
poem by James Thomson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Home Remains Sky
I will not return to earth
Once on the earth and the earth turned me down, only briefly with
I went back to the sky, I'm in heaven where my original
In the sky more beautiful in the sky over calm
Actually I had stayed at home on earth
Even now I miss her
But on earth I could scarcely recognize the permanence
So I'm just one or two times to the earth
I am the son of heaven who loves the sky
High and difficult to reach, or do not think anyone
After the sky I'm difficult and not easy to come back to earth
Only the rain was the tears that tell of the earth
Echoed devastated what is on earth
And I will continue in the sky
Before there was earth is really for me
Earth friendly and beautiful for me
So that's what eternity will tell their own
And we both lost in eternity swallow
Silence swallowed, swallowed by the beauty
Swallowed by time, into the night and day
Swallowed by love and affection both of us forever
poem by Irvan Hermawan Saichu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grounded
The afternoon breeze
rushes through the top of my big tree;
its canopy sways and sings in hushed tones
as the declining sun ignites
its outermost leaves
with green fire.
Through swaying limbs
I see brilliant summer sky
promising stars beyond
if only I can rise high enough
to achieve black space;
but I’ve never been there, never risen
beyond this illusionary, flat world
that confines my sight.
Never have I ascended that pillar of flame,
pressed deeply against the astronaut’s contoured seat,
breathing noisily in helmeted glass,
as computers glow reassuringly in darkness,
promising that everything will work,
and orbit will be achieved.
No, my space journeys are all interior.
Earth-bound, I am firmly cradled in my deep, leather chair,
and only through my high, arched window
view the nightly dance of wind and tree,
of moon and rising stars.
Envious, I hear excited starlings, one to another,
tell stories of daring flight
through the good sky, high
above this green,
firm earth.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paradise: In A Symbol
Golden-winged, silver-winged,
Winged with flashing flame,
Such a flight of birds I saw,
Birds without a name:
Singing songs in their own tongue
(Song of songs) they came.
One to another calling,
Each answering each,
One to another calling
In their proper speech:
High above my head they wheeled,
Far out of reach.
On wings of flame they went and came
With a cadenced clang,
Their silver wings tinkled,
Their golden wings rang,
The wind it whistled through their wings
Where in Heaven they sang.
They flashed and they darted
Awhile before mine eyes,
Mounting, mounting, mounting still
In haste to scale the skies—
Birds without a nest on earth,
Birds of Paradise.
Where the moon riseth not,
Nor sun seeks the west,
There to sing their glory
Which they sing at rest,
There to sing their love-song
When they sing their best:
Not in any garden
That mortal foot hath trod,
Not in any flowering tree
That springs from earthly sod,
But in the garden where they dwell,
The Paradise of God.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Butterfly and the Lark
The Butterfly and the Lark (Shakespearan Sonnet)
Much like a painted picture taken flight,
With wings wearing yellows, pinks and blues,
A butterfly on Flora did alight,
His thirst to satiate with nect'rous juice.
Admiring him, upon a nearby tree,
Behind the foliage-screen a lark did hide.
The former froze with fear when, suddenly,
The ominous bird with oggling eyes he spied.
'Too small a prey I am; do pity me'
He begged. Then came a song-like sweet reply:
'Feast enough for me has been your beauty;
I've had my fill; for food no need have I.
But, whilst I sing, will you not display
Your glorious hues in all their bright array?
poem by Dr. Tulsi Hanumanthu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Psalm 148
Let the heavens cry out
Let the earth give a shout
Let all the Peoples of the earth not doubt
Our glorious King forever
Let the heavenly angels praise
To our King may every hand raise
May we worship Him all of our days
Our glorious King forever
Praise Him you sun so bright
Praise Him you moon through the night
All of His enemies take flight
From our glorious King forever
Praise Him you creatures of the sea
Praise Him that you swim so free
May our praises eternally be
Of our glorious King forever
Mountains and hills fall down
Stars in the sky make a glorious sound
All ye saints cast down your crowns
Before our glorious King forever
We will praise Him for His marvelous grace
We praise Him for His warm embrace
We praise Him in the holy place
Our glorious King forever
We exalt the King of Kings
Heavenly choirs of angels sings
Of the freedom that our Christ brings
Our glorious King forever
All our praise He does deserve
Let His glory cover all the earth
We shall bow down and worship and serve
Our glorious King forever
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Among the Rocks
Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth,
This autumn morning! How he sets his bones
To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet
For the ripple to run over in its mirth;
Listening the while, where on the heap of stones
The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet.
That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true;
Such is life's trial, as old earth smiles and knows.
If you loved only what were worth your love,
Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you:
Make the low nature better by your throes!
Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Hawk
The hawk that flies’ above
And circles in the sky
Swoops and glides its self
Majestic in heavens wake
It sores above the clouds
And looks upon the earth
And has seen a many paths
That’s often lost in mother earth
It flies’ among the clouds
And stars and moons of the land
Searching and guiding
The souls that fly in its wake
It screech’s in the night
At the darkness that try to take
The souls that are new
At reaching for the skies
Talons out stretched
It attacks the darkness
That tries to envelop the soul
And rips the enemies’ within
Leaving you fragile and alone
Then it takes its flights
Once more above in flight
And watch’s and waits
For the darkness to hunt
In its flight
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I saw a flight of sparrows through the air
I saw a flight of sparrows through the air.
Oh, let us rise
Out of the weaknesses of our despair
To burning skies.
Let us take wings for flight from home and friends
And sweet desire.
From comfortable earth the soul ascends
To heavens of fire.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
False Poets And True (To Wordsworth)
Look how the lark soars upward and is gone,
Turning a spirit as he nears the sky!
His voice is heard, but body there is none
To fix the vague excursions of the eye.
So, poets' songs are with us, tho' they die
Obscured, and hid by death's oblivious shroud,
And Earth inherits the rich melody
Like raining music from the morning cloud.
Yet, few there be who pipe so sweet and loud
Their voices reach us through the lapse of space:
The noisy day is deafen'd by a crowd
Of undistinguished birds, a twittering race;
But only lark and nightingale forlorn
Fill up the silences of night and morn.
poem by Thomas Hood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!