In Thy Arms
Clay cloak clotted soul in
Is sacrament enough for thee;
Who cannot see heart wood
For twisted towering trees;
Sun will one day sink
Below shivering saline shore;
Upon sacrificial day shalt ride swift;
Waves astride life no more.
Candle shalt know at spluttering last
ghoul guttered starvation flame;
Shalt burn no more to revealith perfections
Drunken burning hot life refrain;
Through every pore such beauty flows
Pours forth blinding quivering light;
Suffused could it only be, in cool
Shadow embracing satin black night.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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In Time of Doubt
`In the shadow of Thy wings, O Lord of Hosts, whom I extol,
I will put my trust for ever,' so the kingly David sings.
`Thou shalt help me, Thou shalt save me, only
Thou shalt keep me whole,
In the shadow of Thy wings.'
In our ears this voice triumphant, like a blowing trumpet, rings,
But our hearts have heard another, as of funeral bells that toll,
`God of David where to find Thee?' No reply the question brings.
Shadows are there overhead, but they are of the clouds that roll,
Blotting out the sun from sight, and overwhelming earthly things.
Oh, that we might feel Thy presence! Surely we could rest our soul
In the shadow of Thy wings.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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The Curse of Kehama
I charm thy life,
From the weapons of strife,
From stone and from wood,
From fire and from flood,
From the serpent’s tooth,
And the beast of blood.
From sickness I charm thee,
And time shall not harm thee;
But earth, which is mine,
Its fruits shall deny thee;
And water shall hear me,
And know thee and flee thee:
And the winds shall not touch thee
When they pass by thee,
And the dews shall not wet thee
When they fall nigh thee.
And thou shalt seek death,
To release thee, in vain;
Thou shalt live in thy pain,
While Kehama shall reign,
With a fire in thy heart,
And a fire in thy brain.
And sleep shall obey me,
And visit thee never,
And the curse shall be on thee
Forever and ever.
poem by Robert Southey
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Maiden June.....
Within midst of time n' bloom,
Being with the fair Maiden June,
Whinst of bells of unity rings,
An' the voice of young love sings,
There at mid-point fullness year,
An' Mays' flowers overseer,
I being at mid-point of life,
Shalt take of thee, as a wife,
For with each mornin' shalt there be,
Rise of Loves' intensity,
Finds of rest on grassy knoll,
An' with beach of sands, we shalt stroll,
As red-breast an' sparrow fills air
An' the warming of skin so fair,
Whilst attire shalt be next of nil,
Of this I shalt take my fill,
Fair Maiden June, let us join,
An' of season not disappoint,
Nor of season waste not a day,
Of said time of fun n' play,
Maiden June, With thee I shalt dance,
Thou art thy summers' romance,
Take heed to this simple truth,
Thou doth impart eternal youth......
poem by Geoff Warden
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Magni Nominnus Umbra
St. Andrews! not for ever thine shall be
Merely the shadow of a mighty name,
The remnant only of an ancient fame
Which time has crumbled, as thy rocks the sea.
For thou, to whom was given the earliest key
Of knowledge in this land (and all men came
To learn of thee), shalt once more rise and claim
The glory that of right belongs to thee.
Grey in thine age, there yet in thee abides
The force of youth, to make thyself anew
A name of honour and a place of power.
Arise, then! shake the dust from off thy sides;
Thou shalt have many where thou now hast few;
Again thou shalt be great. Quick come the hour!
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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He said not 'Thou shalt not be tempested, thou shalt not be travailed, thou shalt not be dis-eased' but he said, 'Thou shalt not be overcome.'
quote by Juliana of Norwich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aurobindo 181 Savitri Book 11
An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Eleven: The Book of Everlasting Day
Canto One: The Eternal Day: The Soul's Choice
and the Supreme Consummation
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's
'Breaking the Silence with appeal and cry
A hymn of adoration tireless climbed, '
'Then all the woman yearningly replied:
'Thy embrace which rends the living knot of pain,
Thy joy, O Lord, in which all creatures breathe,
Thy magic flowing waters of deep love,
Thy sweetness give to me for earth and men.'
So much considerate you, Savitri...
'Then after silence a still blissful cry'
Began, ''O beautiful body of the incarnate Word, Line 965 to
This earthly life become the life divine.' Line 1430
A great strengthy explication on all
Lashing my heart to feel a space-ride around the spheres
Empowered eternal Savitri supports me motherly
Hugging me is a world of word-bliss while
Awaken Satyavan soulfully applaudes..
'My will is thine, what thou hast chosen I choose:
All thou hast asked I give to earth and men.'
'I lay my hands upon thy soul of flame,
I lay my hands upon thy heart of love,
I yoke thee to my power of work in Time.'
'O Sun-Word, thou shalt raise the earth-soul to Light'
'Earth shall be my work-chamber and my house,
My garden of life to plant a seed divine.'
'Thou shalt bear all things that all things may change,
Thou shalt fill all with my splendour and my bliss,
Thou shalt meet all with thy transmuting soul.'
'The wheeling forces of my universe
Shall cry to thee the summons of my name.'
'All beings shall be to thy life my emissaries; '.....
............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune
poem by Indira Renganathan
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They Who Tread the Path of Labor
They who tread the path of labor follow where My feet have trod;
They who work without complaining, do the holy will of God;
Nevermore thou needest seek me; I am with thee everywhere;
Raise the stone, and thou shalt find Me, clease the wood and I am there.
Where the many toil together, there am I among My own;
Where the tired workman sleepeth, there am I with him alone:
I, the Peace that passeth knowledge, dwell amid the daily strife;
I, the Bread of Heav'n am broken in the sacrement of life.
Every task, however simple, sets the soul that does it free;
Every deed of love and mercy, done to man is done to Me.
Nevermore thou needest seek me; I am with thee everywhere;
Raise the stone, and thou shalt find Me; cleave the wood, and I am there.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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To My Inconstant Mistress
When thou, poor excommunicate
From all the joys of love, shalt see
The full reward and glorious fate
Which my strong faith shall purchase me,
Then curse thine own inconstancy.
A fairer hand than thine shall cure
That heart which thy false oaths did wound;
And to my soul a soul more pure
Than thine shall by Love's hand be bound,
And both with equal glory crowned.
Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain
To Love, as I did once to thee;
When all thy tears shall be as vain
As mine were then, for thou shalt be
Damned for thy false apostasy.
poem by Thomas Carew
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Sonnet XIII: Letters and Lines
To the Shadow
Letters and lines we see are soon defac'd,
Metals do waste and fret with canker's rust,
The diamond shall once consume to dust,
And freshest colors with foul stains disgrac'd;
Paper and ink can paint but naked words,
To write with blood of force offends the sight;
And if with tears I find them all too light,
And sighs and signs a silly hope affotds,
O sweetest shadow, how thou serv'st my turn,
Which still shalt be, as long as there is sun,
Nor, whilst the world is, never shalt be done,
Whilst moon shall shine or any fire shall burn;
That everything whence shadow doth proceed
May in my shadow my love's story read.
poem by Michael Drayton
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To A Young Lady Who Had Been Reproached For Taking Long Walks In The Country
DEAR Child of Nature, let them rail!
--There is a nest in a green dale,
A harbour and a hold;
Where thou, a Wife and Friend, shalt see
Thy own heart-stirring days, and be
A light to young and old.
There, healthy as a shepherd boy,
And treading among flowers of joy
Which at no season fade,
Thou, while thy babes around thee cling,
Shalt show us how divine a thing
A Woman may be made.
Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die,
Nor leave thee, when grey hairs are nigh,
A melancholy slave;
But an old age serene and bright,
And lovely as a Lapland night,
Shall lead thee to thy grave.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Qui Laborat, Orat
O only Source of all our light and life,
Whom as our truth, our strength, we see and feel,
But whom the hours of mortal moral strife
Alone aright reveal!
Mine inmost soul, before Thee inly brought,
Thy presence owns ineffable, divine;
Chastised each rebel self-encentered thought,
My will adoreth Thine.
With eye down-dropt, if then this earthly mind
Speechless remain, or speechless e’en depart;
Nor seek to see, for what of earthly kind
Can see Thee as Thou art?
If well-assured ’tis but profanely bold
In thought’s abstractest forms to seem to see,
It dare not dare the dread communion hold
In ways unworthy Thee,
O not unowned, thou shalt unnamed forgive,
In worldly walks the prayerless heart prepare;
And if in work its life it seem to live,
Shalt make that work be prayer.
Nor times shall lack, when while the work it plies,
Unsummoned powers the blinding film shall part,
And scarce by happy tears made dim, the eyes
In recognition start.
But, as thou wiliest, give or e’en forbear
The beatific supersensual sight,
So, with Thy blessing blest, that humbler prayer
Approach Thee morn and night.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Truth
Friend, though thy soul should burn thee, yet be still
Thoughts were not meant for strife, nor tongues for swords,
He that sees clear is gentlest of his words,
And that's not truth that hath the heart to kill.
The whole world's thought shall not one truth fulfil.
Dull in our age, and passionate in youth,
No mind of man hath found the perfect truth,
Nor shalt thou find it; therefore, friend, be still.
Watch and be still, nor hearken to the fool,
The babbler of consistency and rule:
Wisest is he, who, never quite secure,
Changes his thoughts for better day by day:
To-morrow some new light will shine, be sure,
And thou shalt see thy thought another way.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Rule Britannia
When Britain first, at Heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain:
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
The nations, not so blest as thee,
Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall:
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke:
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine:
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair:
Blest isle! with matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
poem by James Thomson
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To A Godson
(With an album containing portraits of all those who at the time of
his birth were leaders in the intellectual and political world.)
Here hast thou before thee that constellation
Whereunder was born thy light;
These stars in the vault of high thoughts' mutation
Will fashion thy life with might.
Their prophecy, little one, we cannot know,
They light up the way that, unknown, thou shalt go
And kindle the thoughts that within shall glow.
Thou first shalt them gather,
Then choose thine own,-
So canst thou the rather
Grope on alone.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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When Sword Bends Back
As the bittersweet nightshade tongue clucks
Thick walls of patience keep healing back,
yet if thy kiss mine life more poison stalks
mine misanthrope heart pumps blood in shock.
How far not thine eyes be free?
How high would endless mind should flee?
a butterfly that converts to a bee
shalt sting bitter than thee
Those eyes, yonder sought the efflorescent beauty
Those hideous windows shalt live in ephemera.
Thine heart who's filled with things so filthy
Life's on count to suffer for unknown era.
Thy who's name was yet to be known
shalt go aback a step from my zone.
thou art never given rights to speak notions
and art never was put into any position.
If thou insist thy terrible existence
I'll somehow appreciate your perseverance
yet rather gold or medal 'twas annoyance
not vengeance nor hatred aback for accordance.
But long after time had passed by it's stay
and thine insult had broken the healing wall.
Thine soul and breathing in my palm I'll play,
Day will come on your knees my name you'll call.
poem by Ellirie Aviles
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The Two Voices
There are two voices with me in the night,
Easing my grief. The God of Israel saith,
``I am the Lord thy God which vanquisheth.
See that thou walk unswerving in my sight,
So shall thy enemies thy footstool be.
I will avenge.'' Then wake I suddenly,
And, as a man new armoured for the fight,
I shout aloud against my enemy.
Anon, another speaks, a voice of care
With sorrow laden and akin to grief,
``My son,'' it saith, ``What is my will with thee?
The burden of my sorrows thou shalt share.
With thieves thou too shalt be accounted thief,
And in my kingdom thou shalt sup with me.''
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Moon's Minion
Thine eyes are like the sea, my dear,
The wand'ring waters, green and grey;
Thine eyes are wonderful and clear,
And deep, and deadly, even as they;
The spirit of the changeful sea
Informs thine eyes at night and noon,
She sways the tides, and the heart of thee,
The mystic, sad, capricious Moon!
The Moon came down the shining stair
Of clouds that fleck the summer sky,
She kissed thee, saying, 'Child, be fair,
And madden men's hearts, even as I;
Thou shalt love all things strange and sweet,
That know me and are known of me;
The lover thou shalt never meet,
The land where thou shalt never be!'
She held thee in her chill embrace,
She kissed thee with cold lips divine,
She left her pallor on thy face,
That mystic ivory face of thine;
And now I sit beside thy feet,
And all my heart is far from thee,
Dreaming of her I shall not meet,
And of the land I shall not see!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Spirits Of The Dead
Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still.
The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven
With light like hope to mortals given,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne'er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more, like dew-drop from the grass.
The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token.
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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Thou Shalt Find Happiness
Thou shalt find Happiness
Thou shalt not seek the darkness
Nor to hide amongst its shadows
To recede into It’s cobwebs
And forever forget peace
But to come out from the rocks
Into the blinding light
Holding high your downcast head
Exposing your pale faced stare
Establishing an awareness yet unknown
Unto the emptiness that is
Open your heart to better things
Know peace or no peace
Thou shalt not linger in the hot musty places
Which have long since been your home
But to enter into the kingdom
That now awaits the id
A hand is outreached to find you
Places you’ve dared not go
To realities yet unreal
And too soft to touch
Release me from my bondage
My self-inflicted pain
Which I have been powerless to capture
On my own
Only happiness can bring happiness
Lead me there
Must I be clean to take a bath?
Wash me free
Thou shalt not allow this trek
To destroy all that is
Better things await.
Happiness
Like sand
Slipping idly by
I do not have the tools
On my own
My hand is out
There is little time
This is my happy poem
Find it while I can’t
July 4,2008
Lisa M. Callicott
poem by Lisa M. Callicott
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Death Chant
Viewless essence, thin and bare,
Well nigh melted into air,
Still with fondness hovering near
The earthly form thou once didst wear,
Pause upon thy pinion's flight;
Be thy course to left or right,
Be thou doomed to soar or sink,
Pause upon the awful brink.
To avenge the deed expelling
Thee untimely from thy dwelling,
Mystic force thou shalt retain
O'er the blood and o'er the brain.
When the form thou shalt espy
That darken'd on thy closing eye,
When the footstep thou shalt hear
That thrill'd upon thy dying ear,
Then strange sympathies shall wake,
The flesh shall thrill, the nerves shall quake,
The wounds renew their clotter'd flood,
And every drop cry blood for blood!
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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