Faith poems
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Marmion: Canto 6
© Sir Walter Scott
Next morn the Baron climb'd the tower,To view afar the Scottish power, Encamp'd on Flodden edge:The white pavilions made a show,Like remnants of the winter snow, Along the dusky ridge
Marmion: Canto 5
© Sir Walter Scott
O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;And save his good broadsword, he weapons had none,He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone
Last Rites
© Scott Francis Reginald
Within his tent of pain and oxygenThis man is dying; grave, he mutters prayers,Stares at the bedside altar through the screens,Lies still for invocation and for hands
The Canadian Authors Meet
© Scott Francis Reginald
Expansive puppets percolate self-unctionBeneath a portrait of the Prince of Wales.Miss Crotchet's muse has somehow failed to function,Yet she's a poetess. Beaming, she sails
Rockall
© Sargent Epes
Pale ocean rock! that, like a phantom shape,Or some mysterious spirit's tenement,Risest amid this weltering waste of waves,Lonely and desolate, thy spreading baseIs planted in the sea's unmeasured depths,Where rolls the huge leviathan o'er sandsGlistening with shipwrecked treasures
The Old Sampler
© Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
Out of the way, in a corner Of our dear old attic room,Where bunches of herbs from the hillside Shake ever a faint perfume,An oaken chest is standing, With hasp and padlock and key,Strong as the hands that made it On the other side of the sea
The Sea Change
© Rowley Rosemarie
Lost in the crenellations of the sea waveA shell, a limpet, hugs the graining sandPassive, quiet, with bent and covered head,Enduring all. Beneath the tough rim, blind.
A Prayer for Yeats's Son
© Rowley Rosemarie
Once more the mob is howling and half hidUnder the cupola of the dustbin lidMy child screams on: there is no obstacleSave Paul's edict and the seven bare hillsWhereby the television, and unrestBred in the church for centuries, can be stayedAnd for an hour I have walked and prayedBecause there is no room for my kind
Flight into Reality
© Rowley Rosemarie
Dedicated to the memory of my best friend Georgina, (1942-74)and to her husband Alex Burns and their childrenNulles laides amours ne belles prison -Lord Herbert of Cherbury
His Mother's Service to Our Lady
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Lady of Heaven and earth, and therewithalCrowned Empress of the nether clefts of Hell,I, thy poor Christian, on thy name do call,Commending me to thee, with thee to dwell,Albeit in nought I be commendable
White Flock
© Anna Akhmatova
Copyright Anna Akhmatova
Copyright English translation by Ilya Shambat (ilya_shambat@yahoo.com)
Origin: http://www.geocities.com/ilya_shambat/akhmatova.html
My Last Will
© Raleigh Walter Alexander
When I am safely laid away,Out of work and out of play,Sheltered by the kindly groundFrom the world of sight and sound,One or two of those I leaveWill remember me and grieve,Thinking how I made them gayBy the things I used to say;-- But the crown of their distressWill be my untidiness
A Literature Lesson. Sir Patrick Spens In the Eighteenth Century Manner
© Raleigh Walter Alexander
VERSE IA prosperous port contiguous to the strand,A monarch feasted in right royal state;But care still dogs the pleasures of the Great,And well his faithful servants could surmiseFrom his distracted looks and broken sighsThat though the purple bowl was circling free,His mind was prey to black perplexity
The Passionate Man's Pilgrimage
© Ralegh Sir Walter
[Supposed to be written by one at the point of death]
As You Came from the Holy Land (attributed)
© Ralegh Sir Walter
As you came from the holy land Of Walsingham,Met you not with my true love By the way as you came?
An Essay on Man: Epistle III
© Alexander Pope
Here then we rest: "The Universal CauseActs to one end, but acts by various laws
