May, 1915
May, 1915
Let us remember Spring will come again
To the scorched, blackened woods, where all the wounded trees
Wait, with their old wise patience for the heavenly rain,
Sure of the sky: sure of the sea to send its healing breeze,
Sure of the sun. And even as to these
Surely the Spring, when God shall please
Will come again like a divine surprise
To those who sit to-day with their great Dead, hands in their hands, eyes in their eyes,
At one with Love, at one with Grief: blind to the scattered things and changing skies.
– Charlotte Mew
Books and Reading Poetry/Hymns/Lyrics Temporal Miscellany: autumn seasons
by amo
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From my reading:
In Reply to Liu Ch’ai-Sang
In a meager home, guests rare, I often
forget I’m surrounded by turning seasons.And now falling leaves fill courtyard
emptiness, I grow sad, realizing it’sautumn already. Fresh sunflower thickets
fill north windows. Sweet grains in southfields ripen. Though I’m far from happy
today, I know next year may never come.Get the kids together, I tell my wife,
it’s the perfect day for a nice long walk.From The Selected Poems of T’ao Ch’ien
translated by David Hinton
Books and Reading Commonplace Book Poetry/Hymns/Lyrics: bird forever freedom hunter lark melody prey song verse
by amo
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From My Reading
A lark, caught in a hunter’s net
Sang sweeter than ever,
As if the falling melody
Might wing and net dissever.
At dusk the hunter took his prey,
The lark his freedom never.
All birds and men are sure to die
But songs may live forever.
From The Pillars of the Earth
Book Reviews Books and Reading My Creations Poetry/Hymns/Lyrics
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Bestiary (Poetry Book Review)
My review of Bestiary
Family and Friends Music My Creations My Music Pensive Moments Poetry/Hymns/Lyrics
by amo
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Book Reviews Books and Reading My Creations Poetry/Hymns/Lyrics
by amo
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Book Review
I’m late in posting this because I had some family issues come up, but I am pleased to announce that my review of Who’s to Say What’s Home by Kim Calder was accepted for electronic publication by Rattle. I very much like the poetry they publish, and I feel honored to have the opportunity to make a small contribution to the magazine. The review is here.
The Lowest Place
The Lowest Place
Give me the lowest place: not that I dare
Ask for that lowest place, but Thou hast died
That I might live and share
Thy glory by Thy side.
Give me the lowest place: or if for me
That lowest place too high, make one more low
Where I may sit and see
My God and love Thee so.
—Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
What Woundrous Love Is This?
What Wondrous Love Is This, Blue Highway, 3:38
The Penitent
I mourn with thee, and yet rejoice
That thou shouldst sorrow so;
With angel choirs I join my voice
To bless the sinner’s woe.
Though friends and kindred turn away,
And laugh thy grief to scorn;
I hear the great Redeemer say,
“Blessed are ye that mourn.”
Hold on thy course, nor deem it strange
That earthly cords are riven:
Man may lament the wondrous change,
But “there is joy in heaven!”
-Anne Bronte (as Acton Bell)
The Doubter’s Prayer
The Doubter’s Prayer
Eternal Power, of earth and air!
Unseen, yet seen in all around,
Remote, but dwelling everywhere,
Though silent, heard in every sound;
If e’er thine ear in mercy bent,
When wretched mortals cried to Thee,
And if, indeed, Thy Son was sent,
To save lost sinners such as me:
Then hear me now, while kneeling here,
I lift to thee my heart and eye,
And all my soul ascends in prayer,
OH, GIVE ME—GIVE ME FAITH! I cry.
Without some glimmering in my heart,
I could not raise this fervent prayer;
But, oh! a stronger light impart,
And in Thy mercy fix it there.
While Faith is with me, I am blest;
It turns my darkest night to day;
But while I clasp it to my breast,
I often feel it slide away.
Then, cold and dark, my spirit sinks,
To see my light of life depart;
And every fiend of Hell, methinks,
Enjoys the anguish of my heart.
What shall I do, if all my love,
My hopes, my toil, are cast away,
And if there be no God above,
To hear and bless me when I pray?
If this be vain delusion all,
If death be an eternal sleep,
And none can hear my secret call,
Or see the silent tears I weep!
Oh, help me, God! For thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve;
Forsake it not: it is thine own,
Though weak, yet longing to believe.
Oh, drive these cruel doubts away;
And make me know, that Thou art God!
A faith, that shines by night and day,
Will lighten every earthly load.
If I believe that Jesus died,
And waking, rose to reign above;
Then surely Sorrow, Sin, and Pride,
Must yield to Peace, and Hope, and Love.
And all the blessed words He said
Will strength and holy joy impart:
A shield of safety o’er my head,
A spring of comfort in my heart.
–Ellis Bell (Emily Bronte)
from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Bronte), read via Project Gutenberg.
