Joseph Mary Plunkett

"I See His Blood Upon The Rose"

I see His blood upon the rose

And in the stars the glory of His eyes,

His body gleams amid eternal snows,

His tears fall from the skies.

I see His face in every flower;

The thunder and the singing of the birds

Are but His voice -- and carven by His power,

Rocks are His written words.

All pathways by His feet are worn,

His strong Heart stirs the ever - beating sea.

His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,

His Cross is every tree.

"The Golden Book of Catholic Poetry" edited by Alfred Noyes - J.B. Lippincott Company, New York, NY 1946

John Hall Wheelock (1886-1978): "Exile From God"

I do not fear to lay my body down

                             In death, to share

The life of the dark earth, and lose my own,

                              If God is there.

I have so loved all sense of Him, sweet might

                              Of colour and of sound, --

His tangible loveliness and living light

                              That robes me 'round.

If to His heart in the hushed grave and dim

                                We sink more near,

It shall be well -- living we rest in Him.

                                 Only I fear

Lest from my God in lonely death I lapse,

                                 And the dumb clod,

Lose Him; for God is life, and death perhaps

                                 Exile from God.

The Golden Book of Catholic Poetry, edited by Alfred Noyes, 1946

Amado Nervo

 "Cuando Dios Lo Quiera"

Santa florecita, celestial renuevo,

que hiciste de mi alma una primavera,

y cuyo perfume para siempre llevo:

Cuando en mi camino te hallaré de nuevo?

-- Cuando Dios lo quiera, cuando Dios lo quiera!

. . .

Poema del Libro "La Amada Inmóvil", 1947

Come HOLY SPIRIT Come

 Fill the hearts of The Faithful 

in JESUS name

Amen

🔷    ⚜️    🔷

Tobias and The Angel

Donald Justice : "There is a Gold Light In Certain Old Paintings"

1

There is a gold light in certain old paintings

That represents a diffusion of sunlight.

It is like happiness, when we are happy.

It comes from everywhere and from nowhere at once, this light,

          And the poor soldiers sprawled at the foot of the Cross

          Share in this charity equally with the cross.

 

2

Orpheus hesitated beside the black river

With so much to look forward to he looked back.

We think he sang then, but the song is lost.

At least he had seen once more the beloved back.

 I say the song went this way: O prolong

 Now the sorrow if that is all there is to prolong.

3 

The world is very dusty, uncle. Let us work.

One day the sickness shall pass from the earth for good.

The orchard will bloom; someone will play the guitar.

Our work will be seen as strong and clean and good.

         And all that we suffered through having existed 

         Shall be forgotten as though it had never existed.

Donald Justice : "About My Poems"

How fashionably sad my early poems are!

On their clipped lawns and hedges the snows fall;

Rains beat against the tarpaulins of their porches,

Where, Sunday mornings, the bored children sprawl,

Reading the comics, before the parents rise.

--  The rhymes, the meters, how they paralyze!

Who walks out through their streets tonight? No one.

You know these small towns, how all traffic stops

At ten; the corner streetlamps gathering moths;

And the pale mannequins waiting in dark shops,

Undressed, and ready for the dreams of men.

--  Now the long silence. Now the beginning again.

Donald Justice "Collected Poems"  --  Albert A. Knopf. Inc  ©2004