Joyce Kilmer
In Memory
I Serene and beautiful and very wise, Most erudite in curious Grecian lore, You lay and read your learned books, and bore A weight of unshed tears and silent sighs. The song within your
St. Alexis, Patron of Beggars
We who beg for bread as we daily tread Country lane and city street, Let us kneel and pray on the broad highway To the saint with the vagrant feet. Our altar light is
Queen Elizabeth Speaks
My hands were stained with blood, my heart was Proud and cold, My soul is black with shame. . . but I gave Shakespeare gold. So after aeons of flame, I may, by grace
The Visitation
(For Louise Imogen Guiney) There is a wall of flesh before the eyes Of John, who yet perceives and hails his King. It is Our Lady’s painful bliss to bring Before mankind the Glory
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,
The Cathedral of Rheims
(From the French of Emile Verhaeren) He who walks through the meadows of Champagne At noon in Fall, when leaves like gold appear, Sees it draw near Like some great mountain set upon the
The Singing Girl
(For the Rev. Edward F. Garesche, S. J.) There was a little maiden In blue and silver drest, She sang to God in Heaven And God within her breast. It flooded me with pleasure,
Delicatessen
Why is that wanton gossip Fame So dumb about this man’s affairs? Why do we titter at his name Who come to buy his curious wares? Here is a shop of wonderment. From every
To A Young Poet Who Killed Himself
When you had played with life a space And made it drink and lust and sing, You flung it back into God’s face And thought you did a noble thing. “Lo, I have lived
Stars
(For the Rev. James J. Daly, S. J.) Bright stars, yellow stars, flashing through the air, Are you errant strands of Lady Mary’s hair? As she slits the cloudy veil and bends down through,
Gates and Doors
(For Richardson Little Wright) There was a gentle hostler (And blessed be his name!) He opened up the stable The night Our Lady came. Our Lady and Saint Joseph, He gave them food and
Love's Lantern
(For Aline) Because the road was steep and long And through a dark and lonely land, God set upon my lips a song And put a lantern in my hand. Through miles on weary
Waverley
1814-1914 When, on a novel’s newly printed page We find a maudlin eulogy of sin, And read of ways that harlots wander in, And of sick souls that writhe in helpless rage; Or when
The White Ships and the Red
(For Alden March) With drooping sail and pennant That never a wind may reach, They float in sunless waters Beside a sunless beach. Their mighty masts and funnels Are white as driven snow, And
Multiplication
(For S. M. E.) I take my leave, with sorrow, of Him I love so well; I look my last upon His small and radiant prison-cell; O happy lamp! to serve Him with never