Your Love And Pure Integrity Is Not In Dispute, Lord (Cavatina Sequence)
(after Gerard Manley Hopkins)
Your love and pure integrity is not
in dispute, Lord,
yet my enemies grow in their power,
in Your record
their evil ways constantly do prosper,
they can afford
great mansions are quite happy in their sin
while there is no place for me to be in.
Even if You were not my dearest friend,
I am not free
from trepidation, from Your punishment,
tranquillity,
avoids me, destruction follow in my steps;
iniquity
is with them that do wreck my livelihood,
while constantly I do only mean good.
Let the great harvest come while I tell some
of Your kindness,
give real power to all my words and works,
in my blindness
help me to see all of Your loving care
while You do bless
me again and again in times of strain,
rid me of all my pain, while You send rain.
[Reference: 'Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord' by Gerard Manley Hopkins.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Your works display your righteousness
(after Gerard Manley Hopkins)
Your works display your righteousness, Lord,
and your love and mercy I cannot comprehend,
even your wisdom and power is without end,
Your sincerity is displayed in your word
but the works of my enemies prosper
and they are men, who do not honour you,
whose lives, whose words are never true,
while all my endeavours end in disaster
and Sir, at times I am struggling to know
if you view me as a enemy or as a friend,
while vile men rise against me, even every fiend,
creatures that with darkness glow.
I pray to have your blessings again,
to comprehend your will,
for protection against all the gathering evil,
for your presence like sweet refreshing drops of rain
and please forgive my faithlessness,
forgive my uncomprehending human ways
while you visit me in the coming days
and may I find in your presence tranquillity and rest.
[Reference: “Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend” by Gerard Manley Hopkins.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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I will not loose my grip
(after Gerard Manley Hopkins)
No, I will not flee,
while I struggle as a mortal man,
using all the power that I can,
while I am struggling to be free,
to be free, from sin, from my own iniquity
and yet its your familiar / unfamiliar face that I scan
while I am trying to comprehend why our fighting did began,
why someone Godly, divine chose me as an adversary?
The dust covers both of us,
while the sun is already rising
and my foot feels full of pain and odd,
but I will not loose my grip even if I must
and I am first begging for your blessing,
for your compassion, Oh my God, my God.
[Reference: “Carrion Comfort” by Gerard Manley Hopkins.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Far Too Many Aspens Are Now Felled (Cavatina)
(after William Cowper and Gerard Manley Hopkins)
Far too many aspens are now felled,
gone is the shade
while the wind blows and its searching in vain
the colonnade
where it once played its own happy song;
it is man made
the destruction that came, the great havoc
that down many rows of great trees did knock.
[References: “The Poplar-Field” by William Cowper and “Binsey Poplars” by Gerard Manley Hopkins.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord, If I Contend
Justus quidem tu es, Domine, si disputem tecum:
verumtamen justa loquar ad te:
Quare via impiorum prosperatur? &c.
Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend
With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just.
Why do sinners' ways prosper? and why must
Disappointment all I endeavour end?
Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend,
How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost
Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls of lust
Do in spare hours more thrive than I that spend,
Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes
Now leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again
With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes
Them; birds build -- but not I build; no, but strain,
Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.
Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Moonless darkness stands between
Moonless darkness stands between.
Past, the Past, no more be seen!
But the Bethlehem-star may lead me
To the sight of Him Who freed me
From the self that I have been.
Make me pure, Lord: Thou art holy;
Make me meek, Lord: Thou wert lowly;
Now beginning, and alway:
Now begin, on Christmas day.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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By the by, if the English race had done nothing else, yet if they left the world the notion of a gentleman, they would have done a great service to mankind.
quote by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I always knew in my heart Walt Whitman's mind to be more like my own than any other man's living. As he is a very great scoundrel this is not a pleasant confession.
quote by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strike, Churl
Strike, churl; hurl, cheerless wind, then; heltering hail
May’s beauty massacre and wispèd wild clouds grow
Out on the giant air; tell Summer No,
Bid joy back, have at the harvest, keep Hope pale.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Beauty is a relation, and the apprehension of it a comparison.
quote by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is a happy thing that there is no royal road to poetry. The world should know by this time that one cannot reach Parnassus except by flying thither.
quote by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The effect of studying masterpieces is to make me admire and do otherwise.
quote by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summa
The best ideal is the true
And other truth is none.
All glory be ascribèd to
The holy Three in One.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Do you know, a horrible thing has happened to me. I have begun to doubt Tennyson.
quote by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Him Who Ever Thought with Love of Me
To him who ever thought with love of me
Or ever did for my sake some good deed
I will appear, looking such charity
And kind compassion, at his life’s last need
That he will out of hand and heartily
Repent he sinned and all his sins be freed.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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The Times Are Nightfall
The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less;
The times are winter, watch, a world undone:
They waste, they wither worse; they as they run
Or bring more or more blazon man’s distress.
And I not help. Nor word now of success:
All is from wreck, here, there, to rescue one—
Work which to see scarce so much as begun
Makes welcome death, does dear forgetfulness.
Or what is else? There is your world within.
There rid the dragons, root out there the sin.
Your will is law in that small commonweal…
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Convention in Miami
for Gerard Manley Hopkins
Around his navel this morning
a halo, a red stipple
Hopkins would love:
'Glory be to God for dappled things...'
It's a gift from this woman
he doesn't know
who welcomed him last night
with open arms and open legs
and sent him back to his wife
this morning, unaware
he was bringing home a souvenir,
a bright halo of crab lice.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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The Sea Took Pity
The sea took pity: it interposed with doom:
‘I have tall daughters dear that heed my hand:
Let Winter wed one, sow them in her womb,
And she shall child them on the New-world strand.’
. . . . . . . .
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Thee, God, I Come from
Thee, God, I come from, to thee go,
All day long I like fountain flow
From thy hand out, swayed about
Mote-like in thy mighty glow.
What I know of thee I bless,
As acknowledging thy stress
On my being and as seeing
Something of thy holiness.
Once I turned from thee and hid,
Bound on what thou hadst forbid;
Sow the wind I would; I sinned:
I repent of what I did.
Bad I am, but yet thy child.
Father, be thou reconciled.
Spare thou me, since I see
With thy might that thou art mild.
I have life before me still
And thy purpose to fulfil;
Yea a debt to pay thee yet:
Help me, sir, and so I will.
But thou bidst, and just thou art,
Me shew mercy from my heart
Towards my brother, every other
Man my mate and counterpart.
. . . . . . . .
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Peace
When will you ever, Peace, wild wooddove, shy wings shut,
Your round me roaming end, and under be my boughs?
When, when, Peace, will you, Peace? I’ll not play hypocrite
To own my heart: I yield you do come sometimes; but
That piecemeal peace is poor peace. What pure peace allows
Alarms of wars, the daunting wars, the death of it?
O surely, reaving Peace, my Lord should leave in lieu
Some good! And so he does leave Patience exquisite,
That plumes to Peace thereafter. And when Peace here does house
He comes with work to do, he does not come to coo,
He comes to brood and sit.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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The poetical language of an age should be the current language heightened.
quote by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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