Search

Search results

Inspired, Joyce Kilmer, in English Clear filters

InspiredJoyce Kilmer

Father Gerard Hopkins, S. J.

Why didst thou carve thy speech laboriously, And match and blend thy words with curious art? For Song, one saith, is but a human heart Speaking aloud, undisciplined and free. Nay, God be praised, Who fixed thy task for thee! Austere, ecstatic craftsman, set apart From all who traffic in Apollo's mart, On thy phrased paten shall the Splendour be! Now, carelessly we throw a rhyme to God, Singing His praise when other songs are done. But thou, who knewest paths Teresa trod, Losing thyself, what is it thou hast won? O bleeding feet, with peace and glory shod! O happy moth, that flew into the Sun!
InspiredJoyce Kilmer

Easter Week

(In memory of Joseph Mary Plunkett) ("Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, It's with O'Leary in the grave.") William Butler Yeats. "Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, It's with O'Leary in the grave." Then, Yeats, what gave that Easter dawn A hue so radiantly brave? There was a rain of blood that day, Red rain in gay blue April weather. It blessed the earth till it gave birth To valour thick as blooms of heather. Romantic Ireland never dies! O'Leary lies in fertile ground, And songs and spears throughout the years Rise up where patriot graves are found.
InspiredJoyce Kilmer

Roses

(For Katherine Bregy) I went to gather roses and twine them in a ring, For I would make a posy, a posy for the King. I got an hundred roses, the loveliest there be, From the white rose vine and the pink rose bush and from the red rose tree. But when I took my posy and laid it at His feet I found He had His roses a million times more sweet. There was a scarlet blossom upon each foot and hand, And a great pink rose bloomed from His side for the healing of the land. Now of this fair and awful King there is this marvel told, That He wears a crown of linked thorns instead of one of gold. Where there are thorns are roses, and I saw a line of red, A little wreath of roses around His radiant head.
InspiredJoyce Kilmer

Thanksgiving

(For John Bunker) The roar of the world is in my ears. Thank God for the roar of the world! Thank God for the mighty tide of fears Against me always hurled! Thank God for the bitter and ceaseless strife, And the sting of His chastening rod! Thank God for the stress and the pain of life, And Oh, thank God for God!
InspiredJoyce Kilmer

In Memory of Rupert Brooke

In alien earth, across a troubled sea, His body lies that was so fair and young. His mouth is stopped, with half his songs unsung; His arm is still, that struck to make men free. But let no cloud of lamentation be Where, on a warrior's grave, a lyre is hung. We keep the echoes of his golden tongue, We keep the vision of his chivalry. So Israel's joy, the loveliest of kings, Smote now his harp, and now the hostile horde. To-day the starry roof of Heaven rings With psalms a soldier made to praise his Lord; And David rests beneath Eternal wings, Song on his lips, and in his hand a sword.

Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem

Or try: