We Meet at the Judgment and I Fear It Not
Though better men may fear that trumpet's warning,
I meet you, lady, on the Judgment morning,
With golden hope my spirit still adorning.
Our God who made you all so fair and sweet
Is three times gentle, and before his feet
Rejoicing I shall say:—"The girl you gave
Was my first Heaven, an angel bent to save.
Oh, God, her maker, if my ingrate breath
Is worth this rescue from the Second Death,
Perhaps her dear proud eyes grow gentler too
That scorned my graceless years and trophies few.
Gone are those years, and gone ill-deeds that turned
Her sacred beauty from my songs that burned.
We now as comrades through the stars may take
The rich and arduous quests I did forsake.
Grant me a seraph-guide to thread the throng
And quickly find that woman-soul so strong.
I dream that in her deeply-hidden heart
Hurt love lived on, though we were apart,
A brooding secret mercy like your own
That blooms to-day to vindicate your throne.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Related quotes
Two Easter Stanzas
I
The Hope of the Resurrection
Though I have watched so many mourners weep
O’er the real dead, in dull earth laid asleep—
Those dead seemed but the shadows of my days
That passed and left me in the sun’s bright rays.
Now though you go on smiling in the sun
Our love is slain, and love and you were one.
You are the first, you I have known so long,
Whose death was deadly, a tremendous wrong.
Therefore I seek the faith that sets it right
Amid the lilies and the candle-light.
I think on Heaven, for in that air so clear
We two may meet, confused and parted here.
Ah, when man’s dearest dies, ’tis then he goes
To that old balm that heals the centuries’ woes.
Then Christ’s wild cry in all the streets is rife:—
“I am the Resurrection and the Life.”
II
We meet at the Judgment and I fear it Not
Though better men may fear that trumpet’s warning,
I meet you, lady, on the Judgment morning,
With golden hope my spirit still adorning.
Our God who made you all so fair and sweet
Is three times gentle, and before his feet
Rejoicing I shall say:— “The girl you gave
Was my first Heaven, an angel bent to save.
Oh, God, her maker, if my ingrate breath
Is worth this rescue from the Second Death,
Perhaps her dear proud eyes grow gentler too
That scorned my graceless years and trophies few.
Gone are those years, and gone ill-deeds that turned
Her sacred beauty from my songs that burned.
We now as comrades through the stars may take
The rich and arduous quests I did forsake.
Grant me a seraph-guide to thread the throng
And quickly find that woman-soul so strong.
I dream that in her deeply-hidden heart
Hurt love lived on, though we were far apart,
A brooding secret mercy like your own
That blooms to-day to vindicate your throne.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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The Step Mother
Well I recall my Father's wife,
The day he brought her home.
His children looked for years of strife,
And troubles sure to come --
Ungraciously we welcomed her,
A thing to scorn and blame;
And swore we never would confer
On her, a Mother's name
I see her yet -- a girl in years,
With eyes so blue and mild;
She greeted us with smiles and tears,
How sweetly too she smiled --
She bent to kiss my sullen brow,
With woman's gentle grace;
And laid her tiny hand of snow
On my averted face --
"Henry -- is this your son? She said --
"Dear boy -- he now is mine --
What not one kiss? --" I shook my head,
"I am no son of thine! --"
She sighed -- and from her dimpled cheek
The rosy colour fled;
She turned away and did not speak,
My thoughts were with the dead --
There leaped from out my Father's eyes
A jet of swarthy fire;
That flashed on me in fierce surprise --
I fled before his ire
I heard her gentle voice entreat --
"Forgiveness for her sake" --
Which added swiftness to my feet,
A sad and strange mistake --
A year had scarcely rolled away
When by that hated bride;
I loved to linger half the day,
In very joy and pride;
Her voice was music to mine ear,
So soft its accent fell;
"Dear Mother now" -- and oh, how dear
No words of mine can tell --
She was so gentle, fair and kind,
So pure in soul and free from art;
That woman with her noble mind,
Subdued my rebel heart --
I just had learned to know her worth,
My Father's second choice to bless;
When God removed her from the earth,
And plunged us all in deep distress --
Hot fever smote with burning blight
Stretchd on a restless bed of pain;
I moaning lay from morn till night
With aching limbs and throbbing brain --
Four weary weeks beside my bed,
She sat within a darkened room;
Untiring held my aching head,
Nor heeded silence -- cold and gloom --
And when my courage quite gave way,
And fainter grew my struggling breath;
She taught my stricken soul to pray
And calmly meet approaching death --
"Fear not God's angel, sent by Him,
The weary spirit to release;
Before the mortal eyes grow dim,
Floats down the white winged dove of peace" --
There came a change -- but fingers small,
No longer smoothed my matted hair;
She sprang not to my feeble call,
Nor helped to lift me to my chair --
And I arose as from the dead,
A life for her dear life was given;
The angel who had watched my bed
Had vanished into Heaven! --
poem by Susanna Strickland Moodie
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Waiting... For My Dream Girl
Who is my Dream Girl?
Who is my Dream Girl?
Who is made just for me,
Who is only such girl made by Thee,
Who is no less than an angel,
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
The moon and the star
Bow down in honour,
Seeing the beauty marvel
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
The 'Goddess of Beauty'
Who is titled
In the Bible,
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Not only for her gorgeous nature,
But also for her beautiful heart like a shinig mirror
Who is worshipped in temple
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Who is as purified
As the innocence of a child
From mind nad body, heart and soul,
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Who is innocent of anger
Whose sweet voice can never be heard louder,
In front of everyone who is always humble,
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Whose eyes so resplendent
Express every feeling hidden,
Who is so much adorable
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
For whom I am the only one,
Who makes me feel like Heaven,
For whom I am so special,
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
For whom the courtesy strictly matters,
For her family, from the core of her heart, who cares,
Who can't be more liable
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Who can distinguish very well between wrong and right
Who can be the most responsible wife,
The family remains at whose disposal
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
For whom I am the life,
For whom I survive,
Till my last breath, who is still loveable
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
Now let Fate, Luck and Time play the game of Love
For they will someday make me meet my Lady Dove,
And for whom I can wait for Time Eternal
She is my Dream Girl...She is my Dream Girl.
poem by Akash Agrawal
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Take My Breath Away
Take My Breath Away
lyrics: If I had castles built on high
I'd find a million ways to write your name against the sky
Just to let you know you caught my eye
If I had more than wealth could buy
I'd sell it all and start again for just one chance with you
Girl I'd give my all to win your love
And I would be rich
And I would build all my world around you
Just to show you
How you take my breath away
And you would find love sweet lady
Nobody else this side of Heaven knows
How you take my breath away
If I could turn the day to night
If I had faith to walk on water maybe you would see
The reason I thank God for miracles
Cause baby when you walked into sight
You turned an ordinary man like me into a king
I would give anything to win your love
And I would be rich
And I would build all my world around you
Just to show you
How you take my breath away
And you would find love sweet lady
Nobody else this side of Heaven knows
How you take my breath away
I think there's something here worth saying
I don't want to scare you
So let me make my wish and hope that you believe
In simple love like I do
Say that it's true baby
'Cause you got me shaking
My breath has now been taken
I've got to overcome this aching
To win your love
And I would be rich
And I would build all my world around you
Just to show you
How you take my breath away
And you would find love sweet lady
Nobody else this side of Heaven knows
How you take my breath away
Take my breath
Take my breath
Take my breath
How you take my breath
Take my breath
Take my breath
Take my breath
How you take my breath away
And I would be rich
And I would build all my world around you
Just to show you
How you take my breath away
And you would find love sweet lady
Nobody else this side of Heaven knows
How you take my breath away
Take my breath
Take my breath
Take my breath
How you take my breath
song performed by by 98 Degrees from 98 Degrees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Trust
Because I've eighty years and odd,
And darkling is my day,
I now prepare to meet my God,
And for forgiveness pray.
Not for salvation is my plea,
Nor Heaven hope,--just rest:
Begging: "Dear Father, pardon me,
I did not do my best.
"I did not measure with the Just
To serve my fellow men;
But unto levity and lust
I loaned my precious pen.
I sorrow for the sacred touch,
And though I toiled with zest,
Dear God, have mercy, in-as-much
I did not do my best.
"I bless You for the gift you gave
That brought me golden joy;
Yet here beside the gentle grave
I grieve for its employ.
Have pity, Lord,--so well I know
I failed you in the test,
And my last thought is one of woe:
I did not do my best."
poem by Robert William Service
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A Dream
I dreamed that I ws dead and crossed the heavens,--
Heavens after heavens with burning feet and swift,--
And cried: "O God, where art Thou?" I left one
On earth, whose burden I would pray Thee lift."
I was so dead I wondered at no thing,--
Not even that the angels slowly turned
Their faces, speechless, as I hurried by
(Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned);
Nor, at the first, that I could not find God,
Because the heavens stretched endlessly like space.
At last a terror siezed my very soul;
I seemed alone in all the crowded place.
Then, sudden, one compassionate cried out,
Though like the rest his face from me he turned,
As I were one no angel might regard
(Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned):
"No moew in heaven than earth will he find God
Who does not know his loving mercy swift
But waits the moment consummate and ripe,
Each burden, from each human soul to lift."
Though I was dead, I died again for shame;
Lonely, to flee from heaven again I turned;
The ranks of angels looked away from me
(Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned).
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Unto This Last
They brought my fair love out upon a bier—
Out from the dwelling that her smile made sweet,
Out from the life that her life made complete,
Into the glitter of the garish street—
And no man wept, save I, for that dead dear.
And then the dark procession wound along,
Like a black serpent with a snow-white bird
Held in its fangs. I think God said a word
To death, as He in His chill heaven heard
Her voice so sweeter than His seraph’s song.
And so Death took away her flower-sweet breath
One darkest day of days in a dark year,
And brought to that strong God who had no fear
My own dear love. Ah, closed eyes without peer!
Ah, red lips pressed on the blue lips of Death!
poem by Victor James Daley
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An African Mother Advice
Tonight witches shall gather
Soon the sun will go to bed
Ndubisi my son come home
Come lay in your mother's arm
Let my love protect you
Under my bosom you will dwell
Till dawn in my warmth
Come my son
The moon is full tonight
Let me tell you stories
The morals you must hold
Close to your heart all your life
Let them guide your thoughts
Leading you through life's path
My son
You're a prince
Like an ant be wise
Let your judgment be sound
Let your heart be filled with mercy
Give alms to the poor
Give food to the hungry
Son
Fear the woman
Her love is sweet
Her heart is dark
Keep your strength
For the love you shall find
And you shall be fruitful
My dear son
I have watched you grow
Your temper is quick
I fear it would destroy you
Hold it in check
Say but a few words
Let them be your bonds
My son
Your are my strength
Do not forget me when am old
Remember the breast that fed you
Let my old bones cling unto you
Let my dry skin feel your warmth
My son soon
I will be gone from here
Uphold your father's name
Let not his legacies die
Do me proud in your deeds
From the spirit land I will smile
For even in death I will watch you
poem by Charles Bernard
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To His Sleeping Mistress
Oh, fair sweet face! oh, eyes, celestial bright,
Twin stars in heaven, that now adorn the night!
Oh, fruitful lips, where cherries ever grow,
And damask cheeks, where all sweet beauties blow!
Oh, thou, from head to foot divinely fair!
Cupid's most cunning net's made of that hair;
And, as he weaves himself for curious eyes,
'Oh me, oh me, I'm caught myself!' he cries:
Sweet rest about thee, sweet and golden sleep,
Soft peaceful thoughts, your hourly watches keep,
Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice,
To beauty sacred, and those angel eyes!
poem by John Fletcher
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Golden Lady
Looking in your eyes
Kind of heaven eyes
Closing both my eyes
Waiting for surprise
To see the heaven in your eyes is not so far
Cause Im not afraid to try and go it
To know the love and the beauty never known before
Ill leave it up to you to show it
And golden lady, golden lady
Id like to go there
Golden lady, golden lady
Id like to go there
Take me right away
Looking at your hands
Hands can understand
Waiting for the chance
Just to hold your hand
A touch of rain and sunshine made the flower grow
Into a lovely smile thats blooming
And its so clear to me that youre a dream come true
Theres no way that Ill be losing
And golden lady, golden lady
Id like to go there
Golden lady, golden lady
Id like to go there
Take me right away
A touch of rain and sunshine made the flower grow
Into a lovely smile thats blooming
And its so clear to me that your my dream come true
There is no way that Ill be losing
Golden lady, golden lady
Id like to go there
Golden lady, golden lady
Id like to go there
Repeat and fade
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The First Canzone Of The Convito
From The Italian Of Dante
I.
Ye who intelligent the Third Heaven move,
Hear the discourse which is within my heart,
Which cannot be declared, it seems so new.
The Heaven whose course follows your power and art,
Oh, gentle creatures that ye are! me drew,
And therefore may I dare to speak to you,
Even of the life which now I live--and yet
I pray that ye will hear me when I cry,
And tell of mine own heart this novelty;
How the lamenting Spirit moans in it, 10
And how a voice there murmurs against her
Who came on the refulgence of your sphere.
II.
A sweet Thought, which was once the life within
This heavy heart, man a time and oft
Went up before our Father’s feet, and there
It saw a glorious Lady throned aloft;
And its sweet talk of her my soul did win,
So that I said, ‘Thither I too will fare.’
That Thought is fled, and one doth now appear
Which tyrannizes me with such fierce stress,
That my heart trembles--ye may see it leap--
And on another Lady bids me keep
Mine eyes, and says--Who would have blessedness
Let him but look upon that Lady’s eyes,
Let him not fear the agony of sighs.
III.
This lowly Thought, which once would talk with me
Of a bright seraph sitting crowned on high,
Found such a cruel foe it died, and so
My Spirit wept, the grief is hot even now--
And said, Alas for me! how swift could flee
That piteous Thought which did my life console!
And the afflicted one ... questioning
Mine eyes, if such a Lady saw they never,
And why they would...
I said: ‘Beneath those eyes might stand for ever
He whom ... regards must kill with...
To have known their power stood me in little stead,
Those eyes have looked on me, and I am dead.’
IV.
‘Thou art not dead, but thou hast wandered,
Thou Soul of ours, who thyself dost fret,’
A Spirit of gentle Love beside me said;
For that fair Lady, whom thou dost regret,
Hath so transformed the life which thou hast led,
Thou scornest it, so worthless art thou made.
And see how meek, how pitiful, how staid,
Yet courteous, in her majesty she is.
And still call thou her Woman in thy thought;
Her whom, if thou thyself deceivest not,
Thou wilt behold decked with such loveliness,
That thou wilt cry [Love] only Lord, lo! here
Thy handmaiden, do what thou wilt with her.
V.
My song, I fear that thou wilt find but few
Who fitly shall conceive thy reasoning
Of such hard matter dost thou entertain.
Whence, if by misadventure chance should bring
Thee to base company, as chance may do,
Quite unaware of what thou dost contain,
I prithee comfort thy sweet self again,
My last delight; tell them that they are dull,
And bid them own that thou art beautiful.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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O Intelligence Moving The Third Heaven
O Intelligences moving the third heaven,
the reasons heed that from my heart come forth,
so new, it seems, that no one else should know.
The heaven set in motion by your worth,
beings in gentleness created even,
keeps my existence in its present woe,
so that to speak of what I feel and know
means to converse most worthily with you:
I beg you, then, to listen to me well.
Of something in me new I now will tell—
how grief and sadness this my soul subdue,
and how a contradiction from afar
speaks through the rays descending from your star.
A thought of loveliness seems now to be
life to my ailing heart: it used to fly
oft to the very presence of your Sire;
and there a glorious Lady sitting high
it also saw, who spoke so pleasingly,
my soul would say “Up there dwells my desire.”
Now one appears, which I in dread admire
a mighty lord that makes it flee away,
so mighty, terror from my heart outflows.
To me he brings a lady very close,
and “Who salvation seeks,” I hear him say,
“let him but gaze into this lady’s eyes,
if he can suffer agony of sighs.”
Such is the contradiction, it can slay
the humble thought that is still telling me
of a fair angel up in heaven crowned.
My soul bemoans its present misery,
saying, “Unhappy me! How fast away
went he, in whom I had some solace found!”
And of my eyes it says, with mournful sound,
“When was it such a lady pierced their sight?
Why did they fail to see me in her guise?
I said, ‘Oh, surely, in this lady’s eyes
the one must dwell who kills my peers with fright.’
To no avail I warned them (Oh, my dread!),
but look at her they did, and I fell dead.”
“Oh, no, not dead, you are bewildered much,
O my poor soul, so pained and grieving so,”
replies a loving spirit, kind and sweet,
“For the fair woman, that you feel and know,
has changed your life so quickly and so much,
you now are trembling in your vile defeat.
Look how humility and mercy meet
in one so wise and gentle in her height:
so call her Lady, as by now you must.
And you will see, if steadfast is your trust,
such lofty miracles, such full delight,
you’ll say, ‘O Love, true lord, do as you please:
here is your humble handmaid on her knees.’”
My song, I do believe that those are few
who can unravel your most hidden sense,
so intricate and mighty is your wit.
Therefore, if by some fate or circumstance
you stray and venture among people who
seem not completely to have fathomed it,
oh, then, I pray, console yourself a bit,
and say, O lovely latest song, to them,
“Notice, at least, how beautiful I am!”
poem by Dante Alighieri
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My Heavenly Dream
How could I
So Much without love
Come to speak secret things
From Heaven above?
Born of my need
Only love I desired
I flew angel speed
To Heaven up higher
I saw things so dear
My eyes were made new
A splendor so clear
Like the first morning dew
What there I did hear
Made my heart all anew
It was given to me
So to share it with you
The Love in that place
Is beyond all desire
They call it God's Grace
In heaven up higher
It was given to me
But not mine to keep
It's yours too you see
So to stars we can leap!
This Glorious Love
I knew in my sleep
From High up above
In my heart now so deep
Just dream of Love Pure
All the Love you desire
It's yours to be sure
From Heaven up higher
This Love in my dream
So unknown just before
To stars must I stream
To sense it once more?
This Love I know true
In my heart tho' broken
Is all here for you
In these tender words spoken:
'I Love you! We Love you! '
Three words o' so dear
From His heaven up Higher
To your hearts down here
poem by Lawrence Kelley III
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For the Fallen
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old,
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
poem by Laurence Binyon from The Times
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Les Noyades
WHATEVER a man of the sons of men
Shall say to his heart of the lords above,
They have shown man verily, once and again,
Marvellous mercies and infinite love.
In the wild fifth year of the change of things,
When France was glorious and blood-red, fair
With dust of battle and deaths of kings,
A queen of men, with helmeted hair,
Carrier came down to the Loire and slew,
Till all the ways and the waves waxed red:
Bound and drowned, slaying two by two,
Maidens and young men, naked and wed.
They brought on a day to his judgment-place
One rough with labour and red with fight,
And a lady noble by name and face,
Faultless, a maiden, wonderful, white.
She knew not, being for shame’s sake blind,
If his eyes were hot on her face hard by.
And the judge bade strip and ship them, and bind
Bosom to bosom, to drown and die.
The white girl winced and whitened; but he
Caught fire, waxed bright as a great bright flame
Seen with thunder far out on the sea,
Laughed hard as the glad blood went and came.
Twice his lips quailed with delight, then said,
“I have but a word to you all, one word;
Bear with me; surely I am but dead;”
And all they laughed and mocked him and heard.
“Judge, when they open the judgment-roll,
I will stand upright before God and pray:
‘Lord God, have mercy on one man’s soul,
For his mercy was great upon earth, I say.
“‘Lord, if I loved thee—Lord, if I served—
If these who darkened thy fair Son’s face
I fought with, sparing not one, nor swerved
A hand’s-breadth, Lord, in the perilous place—
“‘I pray thee say to this man, O Lord,
Sit thou for him at my feet on a throne.
I will face thy wrath, though it bite as a sword,
And my soul shall burn for his soul, and atone.
“‘For, Lord, thou knowest, O God most wise,
How gracious on earth were his deeds towards me.
Shall this be a small thing in thine eyes,
That is greater in mine than the whole great sea?’
“I have loved this woman my whole life long,
And even for love’s sake when have I said
‘I love you’? when have I done you wrong,
Living? but now I shall have you dead.
“Yea, now, do I bid you love me, love?
Love me or loathe, we are one not twain.
But God be praised in his heaven above
For this my pleasure and that my pain!
“For never a man, being mean like me,
Shall die like me till the whole world dies.
I shall drown with her, laughing for love; and she
Mix with me, touching me, lips and eyes.
“Shall she not know me and see me all through,
Me, on whose heart as a worm she trod?
You have given me, God requite it you,
What man yet never was given of God.”
O sweet one love, O my life’s delight,
Dear, though the days have divided us,
Lost beyond hope, taken far out of sight,
Not twice in the world shall the gods do thus.
Had it been so hard for my love? but I,
Though the gods gave all that a god can give,
I had chosen rather the gift to die,
Cease, and be glad above all that live.
For the Loire would have driven us down to the sea,
And the sea would have pitched us from shoal to shoal;
And I should have held you, and you held me,
As flesh holds flesh, and the soul the soul.
Could I change you, help you to love me, sweet,
Could I give you the love that would sweeten death,
We should yield, go down, locked hands and feet,
Die, drown together, and breath catch breath;
But you would have felt my soul in a kiss,
And known that once if I loved you well;
And I would have given my soul for this
To burn for ever in burning hell.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Soldier, Maiden, and Flower
"Sweetheart, take this," a soldier said,
"And bid me brave good-by;
It may befall we ne'er shall wed,
But love can never die.
Be steadfast in thy troth to me,
And then, whate'er my lot,
'My soul to God, my heart to thee,'--
Sweetheart, forget me not!"
The maiden took the tiny flower
And nursed it with her tears:
Lo! he who left her in that hour
Came not in after years.
Unto a hero's death he rode
'Mid shower of fire and shot;
But in the maiden's heart abode
The flower, forget-me-not.
And when he came not with the rest
From out the years of blood,
Closely unto her widowed breast
She pressed a faded bud;
Oh, there is love and there is pain,
And there is peace, God wot,--
And these dear three do live again
In sweet forget-me-not.
'T is to an unmarked grave to-day
That I should love to go,--
Whether he wore the blue or gray,
What need that we should know?
"He loved a woman," let us say,
And on that sacred spot,
To woman's love, that lives for aye,
We'll strew forget-me-not.
1887.
poem by Eugene Field
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Psalm 31 part 1
v.5,13-19,22,23
C. M.
Deliverance from death.
Unto thine hand, O God of truth,
My spirit I commit;
Thou hast redeemed my soul from death,
And saved me from the pit.
The passions of my hope and fear
Maintained a doubtful strife,
While sorrow, pain, and sin conspired
To take away my life.
"My times are in thine hand," I cried,
"Though I draw near the dust;
Thou art the refuge where I hide,
The God in whom I trust.
O make thy reconciled face
Upon thy servant shine,
And save me for thy mercy's sake,
For I'm entirely thine.
PAUSE.
['Twas in my haste my spirit said,
"I must despair and die,
I am cut off before thine eyes;
But thou hast heard my cry.]
Thy goodness how divinely free!
How wondrous is thy grace
To those that fear thy majesty,
And trust thy promises!
O love the Lord, all ye his saints,
And sing his praises loud;
He'll bend his ear to your complaints,
And recompense the proud.
poem by Isaac Watts
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The Song of the Shirt
The Song of the Shirt
With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread--
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch
She sang the "Song of the Shirt."
"Work! work! work!
While the cock is crowing aloof!
And work — work — work,
Till the stars shine through the roof!
It's Oh! to be a slave
Along with the barbarous Turk,
Where woman has never a soul to save,
If this is Christian work!
"Work — work — work
Till the brain begins to swim;
Work — work — work
Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream!
"Oh, Men, with Sisters dear!
Oh, Men, with Mothers and Wives!
It is not linen you're wearing out,
But human creatures' lives!
Stitch — stitch — stitch,
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
Sewing at once with a double thread,
A Shroud as well as a Shirt.
But why do I talk of Death?
That Phantom of grisly bone,
I hardly fear its terrible shape,
It seems so like my own —
It seems so like my own,
Because of the fasts I keep;
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!
"Work — work — work!
My Labour never flags;
And what are its wages? A bed of straw,
A crust of bread — and rags.
That shatter'd roof — and this naked floor —
A table — a broken chair —
And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there!
"Work — work — work!
From weary chime to chime,
Work — work — work!
As prisoners work for crime!
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb'd,
As well as the weary hand.
"Work — work — work,
In the dull December light,
And work — work — work,
When the weather is warm and bright —
While underneath the eaves
The brooding swallows cling
As if to show me their sunny backs
And twit me with the spring.
Oh! but to breathe the breath
Of the cowslip and primrose sweet —
With the sky above my head,
And the grass beneath my feet
For only one short hour
To feel as I used to feel,
Before I knew the woes of want
And the walk that costs a meal!
Oh! but for one short hour!
A respite however brief!
No blessed leisure for Love or Hope,
But only time for Grief!
A little weeping would ease my heart,
But in their briny bed
My tears must stop, for every drop
Hinders needle and thread!"
With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread —
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, —
Would that its tone could reach the Rich! —
She sang this "Song of the Shirt!"
poem by Thomas Hood
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Dearest Mom (A Mother's Eulogy)
I thank God for the many blessing bestowed
Upon us all through the years and the good times we shared
And one of the greatest blessings of all
Is He gave us you Mom and the warmth of your smile
You brought joy to our hearts when at times we were blue
When we needed a friend Mom we all turned to you
You'd make all our worries melt quickly away
Your warmth and compassion would brighten our days
If we searched the world over no where would be find
A person more generous, gentle and kind
And we miss you so much Mom things just aren't the same
But now you're with the Lord, praise His Holy Name
And I imagine your joy and the glow on your face
As you meet our Lord Jesus, feel his warm embrace
And Linda and Rodney are there with you too
All the Angel's rejoicing as they welcome you!
And I realize that even though I am sad
God's given me reasons as well to be glad
So don't worry bout us Mom, we'll all be O.K.
And we know that we'll all be together someday
We love you Mom! ! !
poem by Karen Post
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The Trap
She was taught desire in the street,
Not at the angels' feet.
By the good no word was said
Of the worth of the bridal bed.
The secret was learned from the vile,
Not from her mother's smile.
Home spoke not. And the girl
Was caught in the public whirl.
Do you say "She gave consent:
Life drunk, she was content
With beasts that her fire could please?"
But she did not choose disease
Of mind and nerves and breath.
She was trapped to a slow, foul death.
The door was watched so well,
That the steep dark stair to hell
Was the only escaping way...
"She gave consent," you say?
Some think she was meek and good,
Only lost in the wood
Of youth, and deceived in man
When the hunger of sex began
That ties the husband and wife
To the end in a strong fond life.
Her captor, by chance was one
Of those whose passion was done,
A cold fierce worm of the sea
Enslaving for you and me.
The wages the poor must take
Have forced them to serve this snake.
Yea, half-paid girls must go
For bread to his pit below.
What hangman shall wait his host
Of butchers from coast to coast,
New York to the Golden Gate —
The merger of death and fate,
Lust-kings with a careful plan
Clean-cut, American?
In liberty's name we cry
For these women about to die.
O mothers who failed to tell
The mazes of heaven and hell,
Who failed to advise, implore
Your daughters at Love's strange door,
What will you do this day?
Your dear ones are hidden away,
As good as chained to the bed,
Hid like the mad, or the dead: —
The glories of endless years
Drowned in their harlot-tears:
The children they hoped to bear,
Grandchildren strong and fair,
The life for ages to be,
Cut off like a blasted tree,
Murdered in filth in a day,
Somehow, by the merchant gay!
In liberty's name we cry
For these women about to die.
What shall be said of a state
Where traps for the white brides wait?
Of sellers of drink who play
The game for the extra pay?
Of statesmen in league with all
Who hope for the girl-child's fall?
Of banks where hell's money is paid
And Pharisees all afraid
Of pandars that help them sin?
When will our wrath begin?
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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