Zion
She stood-a hill-ensceptred Queen,
The glory streaming from her ;
While Heaven flashed her rays between,
And shed eternal summer.
The gates of morning opened wide
On sunny dome and steeple;
Noon gleamed upon the mountain-side
'Thronged with a happy people ;
And twilight's drowsy, half closed eyes
Beheld that virgin splendour
Whose orbs were as her darkening skies,
And as her spirit, tender.
Girt with that strength, first-horn of right,
Held fast by deeds of honour,
I ler robe she wove with rays more bright
Than Heaven could rain upon her.
Where is that light-that citadel
That robe with woof of glory ?
She lost her virtue and she fell,
And only left her story.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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Preparatory Meditations - Second Series: 143
(Canticles 6:10. Who is She that Looks Forth as the Morning,
Fair as the Moon, Clear as the Sun, Terrible as an Army with Banners)
Wonders amazed! Am I espoused to Thee?
My glorious Lord? What! Shall my bit of clay
Be made more bright than brightest angels be,
Look forth like as the morning every way?
And shall my lump of dirts wear such attire?
Rise up in heavenly ornaments thus, higher?
But still the wonders stand, shall I look like
The glorious morning that doth gild the sky
With golden beams that make all day grow light,
And view the world o'er with its golden eye?
And shall I rise like fair as the fair moon,
And bright as in the sun, that lights each room?
When we behold a piece of China clay
Formed up into a China dish complete,
All spiced o'er with gold sparks display
Their beauty all under a glass robe neat,
We gaze thereat, and wonder rise up will,
Wond'ring to see the Chinese art and skill.
How then should we and angels but admire
Thy skill and vessel Thou hast made bright thus
Out for to look like to the morning tire
That shineth out in all bright heavenly plush?
Whose golden beams all varnish o'er the skies
And gild our canopy in golden wise?
Wonders are nonplussed to behold Thy spouse
Look forth like to the morning whose sweet rays
Gild o'er our skies as with transparent boughs
Like orient gold of a celestial blaze.
Fair as the moon, bright as the sun, most clear,
Gilding with spiritual gold grace's bright sphere.
O blessed! Virgin spouse, shall thy sharp looks
Gild o'er the objects of thy shining eyes
Like fairest moon and brightest sun do th' fruits
Even as that make the morning shining rise?
The fairest moon in 'ts socket's candle-light
Unto the night and th' sun's day's candle bright.
Thy spouse's robes all made of spiritual silk
Of th' web wove in the heaven's bright loom indeed,
By the Holy Spirit's hand more white than milk
And fitted to attire thy soul that needs.
As th' morning bright's made of the sun's bright rays,
So th' Spirit's web thy soul's rich loom o'erlays.
Oh! Spouse adorned like the morning clear,
Chasing the night out from its hemisphere.
And like the fair face of the moon, whose cheer
Is very brave and like the bright sun 'pear,
Thus gloriously fitted in brightest story
Of grace espoused to be the king of glory.
And thus decked up methinks my ear attends
Kings', queens' and ladies' query, 'Who is this?
Enravished at her sight, how she out sends
Her looks like to the morning filled with bliss,
Fair as the moon, clear as the sun in 'ts costs
And terrible as is a bannered host?'
And all in grace's colors thus bedight,
That do transcend with glory's shine the sun
And moon for fairness and for glorious light,
As doth the sun a glowworm's shine outrun.
No wonder then and if the Bridesgroom say,
'Thou art all fair, my Love, Yea, everyway.'
May I a member be, my Lord, once made
Here of Thy spouse in truest sense, though it be
The meanest of all, a toe, or finger 'rayd,
I'st have enough bliss, espoused to Thee.
Then I in brightest glory ere 't be long
Will honor Thee singing that wedden song.
poem by Edward Taylor
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On The Day Of The Destruction Of Jerusalem By Titus
From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome,
I beheld thee, oh Sion! when render'd to Rome:
'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall
Flash'd back on the last glance I gave to thy wall.
I look'd for thy temple, I look'd for my home,
And forgot for a moment my bondage to come;
I beheld but the death-fire that fed on thy fane,
And the fast-fetter'd hands that made vengeance in vain.
Oh many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed
Had reflected the last beam of day as it blazed;
While I stood on the height, and beheld the decline
Of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy shrine.
And now on that mountain I stood on that day,
But I mark'd not the twilight beam melting away;
Oh! would that the lightning had glared in its stead,
And the thunderbolt burst on the conqueror's head!
But the gods of the Pagan shall never profane
The shrine where Jehovah disdain'd not to reign;
And scatter'd and scorn'd as thy people may be,
Our worship, oh Father! is only for thee.
From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome
(On the Day of the Destruction of Jerusalem by Titus)
I
From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome,
I beheld thee, Oh Sion! when rendered to Rome:
'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall
Flash'd back on the last glance I gave to thy wall.
II
I look'd for thy temple, I look'd for my home,
And forgot for a moment my bondage to come;
I beheld but the death-fire that fed on thy fane,
And the fast-fetter'd hands that made vengeance in vain.
III
Oh many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed
Had reflected the last beam of day as it blazed;
While I stood on the height, and beheld the decline
Of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy shrine.
IV
And now on that mountain I stood on that day,
But I marked not the twilight beam melting away;
Oh! would that the lightning had glared in its stead,
And the thunderbolt burst on the conqueror's head!
V
But the Gods of the Pagan shall never profane
The shrine where Jehovah disdain'd not to reign;
And scattered and scorn'd as thy people may be,
Our worship, oh Father! is only for thee.
poem by Byron from The Hebrew Melodies (1815)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Light of the Spirit
The summer was made by Thee,
There's joy and hope in its birth,
There's joy in its memory,
'Tis the festival of earth.
In the rays of the summer sun
Its beauty,-its light,-its love,
We may trace the Eternal One
As He rules and smiles above.
But where is the summer of mind,
And where the sun of the soul,
To brighten, to bless, to bind,
And overlook the whole?
From the same creative Might
Which the glorious noon has given,
Descends the Spirit's light,
And all shines down from Heaven.
poem by John Bowring
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The Sunflower
Eagle of flowers! I see thee stand,
And on the sun's noon-glory gaze:
With eye like his thy lids expand,
And fringe their disk with golden rays;
Though fix'd on earth, in darkness rooted there,
Light is thine element, thy dwelling air,
Thy prospect heaven.
So would mine eagle-soul descry,
Beyond the path where planets run,
The light of immortality,
The splendour of creation's sun;
Though sprung from earth, and hast'ning to the tomb
In hope a flower of paradise to bloom,
I took to heaven.
poem by James Montgomery
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Sunbeams
The warming rays
streaming on the freshness
of the morning
The slanting rays
trembling between
the green leaves
The guiding rays
sneaking from the arched
roofs of the trees
The shimmering rays
spreading on the curtain panels
of the windows
The scorching rays
flaring on the barren
dry fields
The crimson rays
touching the bare path
like beads of rubies
The outward light fades
while the inward light
gleams to enlighten us.
poem by Rizvana Parveen
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Hymn of Apollo
I.
The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie,
Curtained with star-inwoven tapestries,
From the broad moonlight of the sky,
Fanning the busy dreams from my dim eyes,--
Waken me when their Mother, the gray Dawn,
Tells them that dreams and that the moon is gone.
II.
Then I arise, and climbing Heaven's blue dome,
I walk over the mountains and the waves,
Leaving my robe upon the ocean foam;
My footsteps pave the clouds with fire; the caves
Are filled with my bright presence, and the air
Leaves the green Earth to my embraces bare.
III.
The sunbeams are my shafts, with which I kill
Deceit, that loves the night and fears the day;
All men who do or even imagine ill
Fly me, and from the glory of my ray
Good minds and open actions take new might,
Until diminished by the reign of Night.
IV.
I feed the clouds, the rainbows, and the flowers,
With their ethereal colors; the Moon's globe,
And the pure stars in their eternal bowers,
Are cinctured with my power as with a robe;
Whatever lamps on Earth or Heaven may shine,
Are portions of one power, which is mine.
V.
I stand at noon upon the peak of Heaven;
Then with unwilling steps I wander down
Into the clouds of the Atlantic even;
For grief that I depart they weep and frown:
What look is more delightful than the smile
With which I soothe them from the western isle?
VI.
I am the eye with which the Universe
Beholds itself, and knows it is divine;
All harmony of instrument or verse,
All prophecy, all medicine, is mine,
All light of art or nature; - to my song
Victory and praise in its own right belong.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Rays Of Hope
RAYS OF HOPE
Hole of the cell brings the hope of rays,
These rays are sun-rays
Which dance in the cell of prison from morning to evening?
In morning when sun-rays touch my forehead
They recall the blessings of my mother and father.
In evening when sun-rays lit up the wall of the cell
They tell me that miseries are not universal,
They end as night ends in the morning.
Sun-rays also memorizes the morning of my village and sun set on the hill near the village.
These rays also vitalize me and create patient in me so I can bear the difficulties of the prison.
Now I am hopeful that in near future I will come out from the prison and meet my beloved people.
Because they are waiting for me as I am waiting for the sun-rays of the morning.
(From the diary of a prisoner)
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Cross The Green Mountain
I cross the Green Mountain
I sit by the stream
Heaven blazing in my head I
I dreamt a monsterous dream
Something came up
Out of the sea
Swept through the land of
The rich and the free
I look into the eyes
of my merciful friend
And then I ask myself
Is this the end?
Memories linger
Sad yet sweet
And I think of the souls in heaven who will be
Alters are burning
The flames far and wide
the fool has crossed over
from the other side
They tip their caps
from the top of the hill
You can feel them come
All brave blood do spill
Along the dim
Atlantic line
The rapper's land
lasts for miles behind
the lights coming foreward
and the streets are broad
all must yield
To the avenging God
The world is old
The world is great
Lessons of life
Can't be learned in a day
I watch and I wait
And I listen while I stand
To the music that comes
from a far better land
Close the eyes
of our Captain
Peace may he know
His long night is done
The great leader is laid low
He was ready to fall
He was quick to defend
Killed outright he was
by his own men
It's the last day's last hour
of the last happy year
I feel that the unknown
The world is so dear
Pride will vanish
And glory will rot
But virtue lives
and cannot be forgot
The bells
of evening have rung
there's blasphemy
on the end of the tongue
Let them say that I walked
in fair nature's light
And that I was loyal
to truth and to right
Serve God and meet your full
Look upward beyond
Beyond the darkness that masks
the surprises of dawn
In the deep green grasses
and the blood stained woods
They never dreamed of surrendering
They fell where they stood
Stars fell over Alabama
And I saw each star
You're walking in dreams
Whoever you are
Chilled as the skies
Keen as the frost
And the ground's froze hard
And the morning is lost
A letter to mother
came today
Gunshot wound to the breast
is what it did say
But he'll be better soon
He's in a hospital bed
But he'll never be better
He's already dead
I'm ten miles outside the city
And I'm lifted away
In an ancient light
That is not of day
They were calm they were gloomed
We knew them all too well
We loved eachother more than
we ever dared to tell
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Genesis BK II
ll. 82-91) The citizens of heaven, the home of glory, dwelt
again in concord. Strife was at an end among the angels, discord
and dissension, when those warring spirits, shorn of light, were
hurled from heaven. Behind them stretching wide their mansions
lay, crowned with glory, prospering in grace in God's dominion, a
sunny, fruitful land, empty of dwellers, when the accursed
spirits reached their place of exile within Hell's prison-walls.
(ll. 92-102) Then our Lord took counsel in the thoughts of His
heart how He might people, with a better host, the great
creation, the native seats and gleaming mansions, high in heaven,
wherefrom these boastful foes had got them forth. Therefore with
mighty power Holy God ordained, beneath the arching heavens, that
earth and sky and the far-bounded sea should be established,
earth-creatures in the stead of those rebellious foes whom He had
cast from heaven.
(ll. 103-119) As yet was nought save shadows of darkness; the
spacious earth lay hidden, deep and dim, alien to God, unpeopled
and unused. Thereon the Steadfast King looked down and beheld
it, a place empty of joy. He saw dim chaos hanging in eternal
night, obscure beneath the heavens, desolate and dark, until this
world was fashioned by the word of the King of glory. Here first
with mighty power the Everlasting Lord, the Helm of all created
things, Almighty King, made earth and heaven, raised up the sky
and founded the spacious land. The earth was not yet green with
grass; the dark waves of the sea flowed over it, and midnight
darkness was upon it, far and wide.
(ll. 119-134) Then in radiant glory God's holy spirit moved upon
the waters with wondrous might. The Lord of angels, Giver of
life, bade light shine forth upon the spacious earth. Swiftly
was God's word fulfilled; holy light gleamed forth across the
waste at the Creator's bidding. Over the seas the Lord of
victory divided light from darkness, shadow from radiant light.
The Lord of life gave both a name. By the word of God the
gleaming light was first called day. And in the beginning of
creation was God well pleased. The first day saw the dark and
brooding shadows vanish throughout the spacious earth.
Cora
Of Cora, once so dearly ours,
Would mournful memory sing;
Of how she came when came the flowers,
To leave us with the spring.
That day (returned) which gave her breath
Was that whereon she died,
And o’er the pangs of birth and death
Passed blooming as a bride.
The spring it came, with never a storm,
And nine times came and went,
Till its whole spirit with her form
In budding beauty blent.
Yea, till its sentiment was wreathed
About her eye it came,
And all its foregone influence breathed
At mention of her name.
And aye her soul, her inward worth,
Flushed out in subtle glows,
As from its heart come mantling forth
The ardours of a rose.
It was a glory from within
That made her face so fair,
A radiant spirit void of sin
Was working outward there.
Her locks as they were burnished shone
In many a massy fold,
Or fell in their profusion down
Like bursting sheaves of gold.
Bright garments of a spirit bright,
That even in the shroud
Were like the sunset’s aureate light
Within a lifeless cloud.
When she, our angel of the sun,
Had spread her wings in flight,
Ah, still would mournful memory sing
Of her, our lost delight!
Child with full orbs of heaven-deep blue
Illumined violet,
So richly gentle—touched with dew,
Befringed with glossy jet.
When with the spring we saw depart
Those eyes, those tresses curled,
Then summer dying in love’s heart,
To winger left the world.
Ah, soul that wore the snowy brow,
And gentle shining eyes,
Our song hath aye this burden now
Beneath the vernal skies.
In vain the dews of heaven are shed
Where blight hath been before;
So vainly weep we o’er the dead,
But only weep the more.
Yet from the bright time of her birth
And death, does faith construe
How, like the spring, though not on earth,
Our joy shall bloom anew.
poem by Charles Harpur
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Psalm III: My God, How Many Are My Fears
My God, how many are my fears!
How fast my foes increase!
Conspiring my eternal death,
They break my present peace.
The lying tempter would persuade
There's no relief from heaven;
And all my swelling sins appear
Too big to be forgiven.
But thou, my glory and my strength,
Shall on the tempter tread,
Shall silence all my threat'ning guilt,
And raise my drooping head.
I cried, and from his holy hill
He bowed a list'ning ear;
I called my Father, and my God,
And He subdued my fear.
He shed soft slumbers on mine eyes,
In spite of all my foes;
I woke, and wondered at the grace
That guarded my repose.
What through the hosts of death and hell
All armed against me stood,
Terrors no more shall shake my soul;
My refuge is my God.
Arise O Lord, fulfill thy grace,
While I thy glory sing;
My God has broke the serpent's teeth,
And death has lost his sting.
Salvation to the Lord belongs;
His arm alone can save:
Blessings attend thy people here,
And reach beyond the grave.
poem by Isaac Watts
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God’s Lights
Morning’s painting on the sky above, covers this earth like a glove,
Clouds covered by the sun’s rays, filling earth with abundant praise.
With yet another day to unfold, of God’s wonderful Glory to behold,
The beauty fills hearts and minds, with awe for God’s grand design.
Before the sun is overhead, God paints the clouds a gorgeous red,
This as He moves earth out of night, into the brightness of daylight.
At times the sunlight He shrouds, hiding the sun behind the clouds,
Clouds God paints upon the sky, as wide and vast as they are high.
Although the sun is hid from sight, God keeps it there till fall of night,
Then it’s truly veiled from all eyes, by the ever darker evening skies.
When God shows us another side, as He allows the daylight to hide,
As night’s ushered in by Heaven, God’s lesser light starts to descend.
Now under an ever darker canopy, with lights far as the eye can see,
And the moon above phase by phase, to count both nights and days,
God starts with a new moon friend, with the full moon at month’s end.
This is how God lights the skies, above a world that is filled with eyes.
Lights placed above for all to see, by the hand of The God of Eternity.
The Greatest Light we cannot see; The One who died for you and me.
The Light of Christ soon will shine, from the Eternal City for all of time,
No more need of the moon or sun, for the only Light will be God’s Son.
To Seraphina
The wanton's charms, however bright,
Are like the false illusive light
Whose flattering unauspicious blaze
To precipices oft betrays:
But that sweet ray your beauties dart,
Which clears the mind, and cleans the heart,
Is like the sacred queen of night,
Who pours a lovely gentle light
Wide o'er the dark, by wanderers blest,
Conducting them to peace and rest.
A vicious love depraves the mind,
'Tis anguish, guilt, and folly joined;
But Seraphina's eyes dispense
A mild and gracious influence;
Such as in visions angels shed
Around the heaven-illumined head.
To love thee, Seraphina, sure
Is to be tender, happy, pure;
'Tis from low passions to escape,
And woo bright virtue's fairest shape;
'Tis ecstasy with wisdom joined;
And heaven infused into the mind.
poem by James Thomson
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Finis
An idle rhyme of the summer time,
Sweet, and solemn, and tender;
Fair with the haze of the moon's pale rays,
Bright with the sunset's splendour.
Summer and beauty over the lands -
Careless hours of pleasure;
A meeting of eyes and a touching of hands -
A change in the floating measure.
A deeper hue in the skies of blue,
Winds from the tropics blowing;
A softer grace in the fair moons face,
And the summer going, going.
The leaves drift down, the green grows brown,
And tears with smiles are blended;
A twilight hour and a treasured flower, -
And now the poem is ended.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Today... 'The Eternal God
The great Eternal God is also the Almighty
and He rides all the clouds of heaven in majesty.
He is a mighty stronghold and shelter from all harm
and underneath us is placed His everlasting arm.
To the Only Wise God shall all glory be given
all the praises and the worship of those in heaven.
For He has made Himself known to us through Jesus Christ
when He outstretched His arms in loving sacrifice.
To the Only Wise God all glory and honour be
for He has destroyed and driven out our enemy.
No one can even compare to the Eternal God
now all people can call upon the name of the Lord.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Today... 'The Glory of the Lord
A Saviour has been born to us; He is Christ the Lord.
A babe wrapped in rags by heaven and earth adored.
Angels brought to the world news of great blessing and joy.
God had come to earth and was born as a baby boy.
Your face shone like the sun so radiant and bright
as You were transfigured before their sight.
The Glory of the Lord came shining through
upon the mountain top as they gazed at You.
For they were standing upon the most holy ground
bathed in light as the Shekinah glory shone around.
This world has been illuminated by the Glory of God
shining in the face of Jesus as earths paths He trod.
For the Eternal Light and Uncreated Beam
in the life of Jesus Christ has by mankind been seen.
The image of the Godhead we see mirrored there.
You are the lord our God heaven and earth declare.
The image of the God in You Jesus we see.
the indwelling fullness of the Godhead bodily.
Peter said 'Lord it is good for us to be here'
As he watched Moses and Elijah disappear.
This sight had only been seen by a favoured few
and the Glory of God had come shining right through.
Then, 'This is my beloved son' God said to them
on the top of this mountain near Capernaum.
Later on the Isle of Patmos John saw God's Son
with His countenance shining brighter than the sun.
His eyes were like flashing fire and hair white as snow
and His feet like highly burnished bronze seemed to glow.
Then as one who was dead John fell down to the ground
for so awesome was that scene on that Island found.
Before him the glory of the Lord was too bright
far to wonderful for him to withstand the sight.
One day all will before the throne of Glory stand
and look upon a sight so glorious and grand.
For the Glory of the Lord Jesus will seen by all
and all mankind will confess You as Lord of all.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
In Memory Of The Unknown Poet, Robert Boardman Vaughn
But the essential advantage for a poet is not, to have a beautiful world with which to deal: it is to be able to see beneath both beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
T. S. ELIOT
It was his story. It would always be his story.
It followed him; it overtook him finally—
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
Probably at the end he was not yet sorry,
Even as the boots were brutalizing him in the alley.
It was his story. It would always be his story,
Blown on a blue horn, full of sound and fury,
But signifying, O signifying magnificently
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
I picture the snow as falling without hurry
To cover the cobbles and the toppled ashcans completely.
It was his story. It would always be his story.
Lately he had wandered between St. Mark’s Place and the Bowery,
Already half a spirit, mumbling and muttering sadly.
O the boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
All done now. But I remember the fiery
Hypnotic eye and the raised voice blazing with poetry.
It was his story and would always be his story—
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
poem by Donald Justice
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Cold, clear, and blue the morning heaven
Cold, clear, and blue the morning heaven
Expands its arch on high;
Cold, clear, and blue Lake Werna's water
Reflects that winter sky:
The moon has set, but Venus shines,
A silent, silvery star.
Will the day be bright or cloudy?
Sweetly has its dawn begun;
But the heaveb may shake with thunder
Ere the settling sun.
Lady, watch Apollo's journey;
Thus thy first hour's course shall be;
If his beams through summer vapours
Warm the earth all placidly,
Her days shall pass like a pleasant dream in sweet tranquility.
If it darken, if a shadow
Quench his rays and summon rain,
Flowers may open, buds may blossom,
Bud and flower alike are vain;
Her days shall pass like a mournful story in care and tears and pain.
If the wind be fresh and free,
The wide skies clear and cloudless blue,
The woods and fields and golden flowers
Sparkling in sunshine and in dew,
Her days shall pass in Glory's light the world's drear desert through.
poem by Emily Brontë from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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They May Rail at this Life
They may rail at this life -- from the hour I began it
I found it a life full of kindness and bliss;
And, until they can show me some happier planet,
More social and bright, I'll content me with this.
As long as the world has such lips and such eyes
As before me this moment enraptured I see,
They may say what they will of their orbs in the skies,
But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.
In Mercury's star, where each moment can bring them
New sunshine and wit from the fountain on high,
Though the nymphs may have livelier poets to sing them,
They've none, even there, more enamour'd than I.
And, as long as this harp can be waken'd to love,
And that eye its divine inspiration shall be,
They may talk as they will of their Edens above,
But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.
In that star of the west, by whose shadowy splendour,
At twilight so often we've roam'd through the dew,
There are maidens, perhaps, who have bosoms as tender,
And look, in their twilights, as lovely as you.
But though they were even more bright than the queen
Of that Isle they inhabit in heaven's blue sea,
As I never those fair young celestials have seen,
Why -- this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.
As for those chilly orbs on the verge of creation,
Where sunshine and smiles must be equally rare,
Did they want a supply of cold hearts for that station,
Heaven knows we have plenty on earth we could spare,
Oh! think what a world we should have of it here,
If the haters of peace, of affection and glee,
Were to fly up to Saturn's comfortless sphere,
And leave earth to such spirits as you, love, and me.
poem by Thomas Moore
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