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Tuesday, 12 April 2011

Poetry for Lent Nos 11 - 15

I made this: Avid Reader at 8:58 pm

 Lenten Poetry Challenge   

 

                            

Thursday Lent Poem 15

Leisure

William Henry Davies 1911

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.


Wednesday Lent Poem 14                                                                                    

                                                                                                           

Requiescat

Oscar Wilde 1881

 

Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone,
She is at rest.

Peace, peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life's buried here,
Heap earth upon it.

 

Tuesday Lent Poem 13        

                                                                                               

The Universal Prayer

Alexander Pope 1738

Father of all! In every age,
In every clime adored,
By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou Great First Cause, least understood
Who all my sense confined
To know but this, that Thou art good
And that myself am blind.

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill;
And, binding Nature fast in fate,
Left free the human will.

What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,
This teach me more than Hell to shun,
That more than Heaven pursue.

What blessings Thy free bounty gives
Let me not cast away;
For God is paid when man receives:
To enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth’s contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound.
Or think Thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round.

Let not this weak, unknowing hand
Presume Thy bolts to throw,
And teach damnation round the land
On each I judge Thy foe.

If I am right, Thy grace import
Still in the right to stay;
If I am wrong, oh teach my heart
To find that better way!

Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent,
At aught Thy wisdom has denied,
Or aught that goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another’s woe,
To right the fault I see;
That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.

Mean though I am, not wholely so,
Since quickened by Thy breath;
Oh, lead me wheresoe'er I go,
Through this day’s life or death.

This day be bread and peace my lot;
All else beneath the sun
Though know’st if best bestowed or not,
And let Thy will be done!

To Thee Whose temple is of space, -
Whose alter earth, sea, skies, -
One chorus let all beings raise!
All Nature’s incense rise



Monday Lent Poem 12        

 

Continuities

Walt Whitman 1855

Nothing is ever really lost, or can be lost,
No birth, identity, form--no object of the world.
Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing;
Appearance must not foil, nor shifted sphere confuse thy brain.
Ample are time and space--ample the fields of Nature.
The body, sluggish, aged, cold--the embers left from earlier fires,
The light in the eye grown dim, shall duly flame again;
The sun now low in the west rises for mornings and for noons continual;
To frozen clods ever the spring's invisible law returns,
With grass and flowers and summer fruits and corn.

Sunday Lent Poem 11

 

Letter from town: On a Grey Morning in March

D H Laurence 1909?

The clouds are pushing in grey reluctance slowly northward to you,
While north of them all, at the farthest ends, stands one
bright-bosomed, aglance
With fire as it guards the wild north cloud-coasts, red-fire
seas running through
The rocks where ravens flying to windward melt as a well-shot lance.


You should be out by the orchard, where violets secretly darken the earth,
Or there in the woods of the twilight, with northern
wind-flowers shaken astir.
Think of me here in the library, trying and trying a song that is worth
Tears and swords to my heart, arrows no armour will turn or deter.


You tell me the lambs have come, they lie like daisies white in the grass
Of the dark-green hills; new calves in shed; peewits turn after the plough -
It is well for you. For me the navvies work in the road where I pass
And I want to smite in anger the barren rock of each waterless brow.


Like the sough of a wind that is caught up high in the mesh
of the budding trees,
A sudden car goes sweeping past, and I strain my soul to hear
The voice of the furtive triumphant engine as it rushes past like a breeze,
To hear on its mocking triumphance unwitting the after-echo of fear.

Lenten Poetry Challenge

Lenten Poetry - 12 - Desire - Alice Shapiro
Lenten Poetry - 11 - Well Done - Alice Shapiro
Lenten Poetry - 10 - Resurrection - Vladimir Holan
Lenten Poetry - 09 - Poems 41 - 44
Lenten Poetry - 08 - Poems 36 - 40
Lenten Poetry - 07 - Poems 31 - 35
Lenten Poetry - 06 - Poems 26 - 30
Lenten Poetry - 05 - Poems 21 - 25
Lenten Poetry - 04 - Poems 16 - 20
Lenten Poetry - 02 - Poems 06 - 10
Lenten Poetry - 01 - Poems 01 - 05


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