Whither, O, whither art thou fled,My Lord, my Love?My searches are my daily bread;Yet never prove.My knees pierce th’earth, mine eies the skie;And yet the sphereAnd centre both to me denieThat thou art there.Yet can I mark how herbs belowGrow green and gay,As if to meet thee they did know,While I decay.Yet can I mark…
All in the golden afternoonFull leisurely we glide;For both our oars, with little skill,By little arms are plied.While little hands make vain pretenceOur wanderings to guide.Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour,Beneath such dreamy weather,To beg a tale of breath too weakTo stir the tiniest feather!Yet what can one poor voice availAgainst three tongues together?Imperious…
My husband recently read me this lovely piece from The Soul of Wit, a compilation on the subject of Shakespeare, taken from GK Chesterton’s works. It was so lovely, I thought I would share. “But in a much deeper sense, Shakespeare was classical, because he was civilized. Voltaire criticized him as a barbarian. But he…
This beautiful poem and prayer came to mind this morning, and how fitting it is today, even though the winter be symbolic. The skies are pale for us now, and the winds seem rather cold, and the children need help as much as ever they did before. Father – help us! You are our present…
The sun is gone down And the moon’s in the sky But the sun will come up And the moon be laid by. The flower is asleep. But it is not dead, When the morning shines It will lift its head. When winter comes It will die! No, no, It will only hide From the…
Father, Thy son came down this blessed day Let our hearts kneel down here where he lay, To stop a moment here and gaze upon his lovely face – A babe born new with eyes that shine as day A moment dear heart – quiet thy roaming renditions Silence all others – Peace lies…
Not that the widespread wings of wrong brood o’er a moaning earth, Not from the clinging curse of gold, the random lot of birth; Not from the misery of the weak, the madness of the strong, Goes upward from our lips the cry, “How long, oh Lord, how long?” Not only from the huts of…
Father, this heart is hurting so, It throbs in pain, it writhes, it bleeds I cannot find the way to go, Groping through these misty reeds Father – thou art my shining key And with thy name, the clue unfolds If thou gavest my life to me Then thy heart, my future holds…
We are of the fall, my love, Born beneath a waning moon A fateful star o’er hung, my love, And song soon lost its tune Darkness fell o’er all, my love, A gloom o’er me and you Blindly go we all, my love, In search of sweet perfume Sadly go we all, my love, Through…
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