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Comfort of Dante

Down where the unconquered river still flows on,
One strong free thing within a prison's heart,
I drew me with my sacred grief apart,
That it might look that spacious joy upon:
And as I mused, lo! Dante walked with me,
And his face spake of the high peace of pain
Till all my grief glowed in me throbbingly
As in some lily's heart might glow the rain.

So like a star I listened, till mine eye
Caught that lone land across the water-way
Wherein my lady breathed,-now breathing is-
'O Dante,' then I said, 'she more than I
Should know thy comfort, go to
her
, I pray.'
'Nay!' answered he, 'for she hath Beatrice.'

poem by Richard Le Gallienne
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Hope in Heaven's Day

Grief be mine, I ask you so,
If not for you, I wouldn't know,
How life once was and then be still,
How so precious, that death do steal.
Because that grief, won't go away,
Learn to let it have its way.
The link to love, a precious one,
Is met with grief and still not done.
The days do come, and nights do go,
Grief will stay as time is so.
And so a loved one passes on,
And grief comes in and carries on.
Does grief get better, I will ask,
It's hard to say, while at its task.
There is grief to help us cope,
There is God to give us hope.
Grief will surely go away,
On that glorious heaven's day.
But while its here, there's just one thing,
Pray our Lord, for peace he'll bring.

poem by Arlene Dery
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River Street Urchins

River street urchins,
The gutters are swelling.
[Waiting…] for the sky—you and I
To reach—the storm drains of joy.
Before we go…
Before we let, go.
We too will rain…

River street urchins,
Before we go…
Before we let, go.
We too will rain…
River street urchins…

Paupers oh so giving, don't you know.
We'll queue in the streets
And pray to be free!
Till we go…
Before we let, go.
We too will rain…
On every official bank holiday parade:

Till we're free, till were free
Till were free, till were free
Till were free, to go…
We'll never clear-out:
Absorbing as every stain might be.

I'll fabricate a new colour?
A rainbows pot of gold…
One for just you and me!

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Dream-Land

Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.

She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.

Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.

Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Water My Thirsty Soul

Can the rain fall from cloudless skies
Can your tears fall from hardened eyes
I cried out to the Lord, in my time of need
I prayed for the rain, my soul to feed

And my God, who is never far away
Opened up His heart as He listened to me pray
And from heaven on high He sent down the rain
There's a river of grace that's gonna wash away the pain

And out of my heart flows a river so deep
My once dry eyes they now continually weep
And everywhere the river flows there's grace from above
And everyone it touches they are filled with His love

This rain that falls, it falls from endless blue skies
It fills my empty heart and falls down from my eyes
The Lord Himself sent down the rain from above
And now the cloudless skies are filled with clouds of His love

So if it's rain your looking for, this moment, today
Wont you fall down on your knees and cry out and pray
The Lord of every rain dropp that falls down from above
Will sweep you down the river to an ocean of love

This ocean is boundless, its forever and a day
And in this sea of beauty you will hear the Lord say
I am the Father's tears that was shed from above
And I will carry you home across this ocean of love

poem by Frank McEleny
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A Prayer

LADY, in thy proud eyes
There is a weary look,
As if the spirit we know through them
Were daunted with rebuke
To think that the heart of man henceforth
Is read like a read book.
Lady, in thy lifted face
The solitude is sore;
The true solitude follows the crowd.
Will it be less or more
When the words have been spoken to thee
Which my heart is seeking for?
Lady, canst thou not guess
The words which my thoughts seek?
Perhaps thou deem'st them well to spurn
And better not to speak.
Oh thou must know my love is strong,
Hearing my voice so weak.
Lady, ah go not thus:
Lady, give ear again:
Lady, oh learn from me that yet
There may one thing remain
Which stands not in the knowledge thou hast
And in thy lore of men.
Lady, the darkness lasteth long
Ere the dawn touch the skies;
Many are the leagues of wilderness
Till ye come where the green lies;
Nay often betwixt doubt and doubt
Death whispers and makes wise.
Lady, has not my thought
Dared much? For I would be
The ending of darkness and the dawn
Of a new day to thee,
And thine oasis, and thy place of rest,
And thy time of peace, lady.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Till The Land

till the land, till the land,
plant the seeds, pray for rain.
feed your cows and your pigs,
always stop to give thanks.

close to the earth, the seasons,
to your family, to your heart....
to your neighbors, to your friends, .
do your best, do your part.

till the land, till the land,
plant the seeds, pray for rain.
feed your cows and your chickens,
always stop to give thanks.

from generation to generation,
the traditions handed down.
take care of the land you work,
keep the wheel going 'round.

till the land, till the land,
plant the seeds, pray for rain.
feed your cows and your horses,
always stop to give thanks.

now the times have changed,
you're not needed anymore.
the bank's come to take away
all the things you've stood for.

till the land, till the land,
plant the seeds, pray for rain.
feed your cattle and your family,
always stop to give thanks.

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Mary's Girlhood (for a Picture)

This is that blessed Mary, pre-elect
God's Virgin. Gone is a great while, and she
Dwelt young in Nazareth of Galilee.
Unto God's will she brought devout respect,
Profound simplicity of intellect,
And supreme patience. From her mother's knee
Faithful and hopeful; wise in charity;
Strong in grave peace; in pity circumspect.

So held she through her girlhood; as it were
An angel-water'd lily, that near God
Grows and is quiet. Till, one dawn at home,
She woke in her white bed, and had no fear
At all,--yet wept till sunshine, and felt aw'd:
Because the fulness of the time was come.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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One Worse Thing

LAST Spring I walked these ways, and a sharp grief walked with me,
For you had broken my heart with a light kiss, carelessly,
And I was young and was new to grief, and could think of no worse thing
Than to walk abroad with a hurting heart and be hopeless in the Spring.

But I am older now, and have lived with grief awhile,
And there's one worse thing than a hurting heart that you have to hide and smile,
For I who know what a hurt heart is, and the thing that grief can be,
I– I have broken a heart with a light kiss, carelessly!

poem by Margaret Widdemer
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Sonnet: Spirit Of Love

I felt a spirit of love begin to stir
Within my heart, long time unfelt till then;
And saw Love coming towards me fair and fain
(That I scarce knew him for his joyful cheer),
Saying, 'Be now indeed my worshipper!'
And in his speech he laughed and laughed again.
Then, while it was his pleasure to remain,
I chanced to look the way he had drawn near,
And saw the Ladies Joan and Beatrice
Approach me, this the other following,
One and a second marvel instantly.
And even as now my memory speaketh this,
Love spake it then: 'The first is christened Spring;
The second Love, she is so like to me.'

poem by Dante Alighieri
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Village Of Hopes And Dreams

As we all come upon a death of a certain loved one
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all lose the championship,
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all fail a test, of which we tried so hard on,
We grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all walk in the rain the same, so sad
The mood of the storm changes us
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all cry the same with blood-shot eyes, hoping no one sees us,
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all pray to God that this pain will stop,
We never think what we’ve down for him.
As I have lost something so great,
I lift my head to the sky
Pray to God that he will bless me with the opportunity
Of doing better next time.
As I learned from my elders the way you walk can tell a lot about yourself.
So I walk with my head up high, knowing God has sent his angels
To guide me in my path.
And if I did grief in the same way as others, with my head down.
I know that the Devil will be staring me down.
And as I walk home on this rainy day,
I pray that sunshine is on its way!
As I’ve cried in this stall,
I got on my knees and prayed to God to let these tears stop
With hopes and dreams I get from him,
Smiling each day because I know I am strong.

poem by Rachel Martin
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Sonnet 07

Grief dies like joy; the tears upon my cheek
Will disappear like dew. Dear God! I know
Thy kindly Providence hath made it so,
And thank thee for the law. I am too weak
To make a friend of Sorrow, or to wear,
With that dark angel ever by my side
(Though to thy heaven there be no better guide),
A front of manly calm. Yet, for I hear
How woe hath cleansed, how grief can deify,
So weak a thing it seems that grief should die,
And love and friendship with it, I could pray,
That if it might not gloom upon my brow,
Nor weigh upon my arm as it doth now,
No grief of mine should ever pass away.

poem by Henry Timrod
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The River Flows

The river flows and moss grows
And I dangle my feet in the water
The water is cold, but so is my heart
As I sit and just watch time goes by

No place I have to go, no place to be
Time has passed too fast, as fast as the river flows
Who else has sat here and felt this way
Felt pain in their heart and soul

They don't understand, did they ever?
All the hurt down deep in my soul
The leaves sway with the wind
And the chill sets in

I know I must leave, I don't know where
Guess I'll find my way down the road
With tears in my eyes and a broken heart
I'll find my way back to somewhere

The river flows on and the moss will keep growing
Till someone else sits here
And remembers things like I do
And wish I had them all back

I leave in the night, goodbye to the river and moss
May each persons who comes this way
Find a peace inside like I did but on the way
I'll always remember that the river flows on and the moss grows.

Written by Jo Carey

poem by jJO CAREY
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After Paul Verlaine-I

Tears fall within mine heart,
As rain upon the town:
Whence does this languor start,
Possessing all mine heart?

O sweet fall of the rain
Upon the earth and roofs!
Unto an heart in pain,
O music of the rain!

Tears that have no reason
Fall in my sorry heart:
What! there was no treason?
This grief hath no reason.

Nay! the more desolate,
Because, I know not why,
(Neither for love nor hate)
Mine heart is desolate.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Licia Sonnets 36

Hear how my sighs are echoed of the wind;
See how my tears are pitied by the rain;
Feel what a flame possesséd hath my mind;
Taste but the grief which I possess in vain.
Then if my sighs the blustering winds surpass,
And wat'ry tears the drops of rain exceed,
And if no flame like mine nor is nor was,
Nor grief like that whereon my soul doth feed,
Relent, fair Licia, when my sighs do blow;
Yield at my tears, that flintlike drops consume;
Accept the flame that doth my incense show,
Allow the grief that is my heart's perfume.
Thus sighs and tears, flame, grief shall plead for me;
So shall I pray, and you a goddess be.

poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Madonna Mia

A LILY-GIRL, not made for this world's pain,
With brown, soft hair close braided by her ears,
And longing eyes half veiled by slumberous tears
Like bluest water seen through mists of rain:
Pale cheeks whereon no love hath left its stain,
Red underlip drawn in for fear of love,
And white throat, whiter than the silvered dove,
Through whose wan marble creeps one purple vein.
Yet, though my lips shall praise her without cease,
Even to kiss her feet I am not bold,
Being o'ershadowed by the wings of awe.
Like Dante, when he stood with Beatrice
Beneath the flaming Lion's breast, and saw
The seventh Crystal, and the Stair of Gold.

poem by Oscar Wilde
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Wallowing

My grief has no panacea, my sorrow has no bounds
Without a moment's notice, my somber heart pounds
Into the deep furrows of solitude grave
Where my lonely mind dwells for my heart is deprave
Of other hearts; even mine God's heart is deaf
To my wallowin sadness, mine heart that wails
In the sullen air of Dante's hellish breathe
In the whirlpool of pitiless souls, my love fails
And meets its maker, the sinister called death

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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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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Lady, The Fates Command

Lady, the fates command, and I must go,---
Leaving the pleasant land so dear to me:
Here my heart suffered many a heavy woe:
But what is left to love, thus leaving thee?
Alas! that cruel land beyond the see!
Why thus dividing many a faithful heart,
Never again from pain and sorrow free,
Never again to meet, when thus they part?

I see not, when thy presence bright I leave,
How wealth, or joy, or peace can be my lot:
Ne'er yet my spirit found such cause to grieve
As now in leaving thee; and if thy thought
Of me in absence should be sorrow-fraught,
Oft will my heart repentant turn to thee,
Dwelling, in fruitless wishes, on this spot,
And all the gracious words here said to me.

O gracious God! to thee I bend my knee,
For thy sake yielding all I love and prize;
And O, how mighty must that influence be,
That steals me thus from all my cherished joys!
Here, ready, then, myself surrendering,
Prepared to serve thee, I submit; and ne'er
To one so faithful could I service bring,
So kind a master, so beloved and dear.

And strong my ties---my grief unspeakable!
Grief, all my choicest treasures to resign;
Yet stronger still the affections that impel
My heart toward Him, the God whose love is mine.
That holy love, how beautiful! how strong!
Even wisdom's favorite sons take refuge there;
'T is the redeeming gem that shines among
Men's darkest thoughts,---for ever bright and fair.

poem by Thibaut de Champagne
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The One Grief

ONE grief there is, the helpmeet of my heart,
That shall not from me till my days be sped,
That walks beside me in sunshine and shade,
And hath in all my fortunes equal part.
At first I feared it, and would often start
Aghast to find it bending o'er my bed,
Till usage slowly dulled the edge of dread,
And one cold night I cried: How warm thou art!

Since then we two have travelled hand in hand,
And, lo, my grief has been interpreter
For me in many a fierce and alien land
Whose speech young Joy had failed to understand,
Plucking me tribute of red gold and myrrh
>From desolate whirlings of the desert sand.

poem by Edith Wharton
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The River and the Dam

The river flows down the hill,
Till it finds it is slowing

The dam stands as tall as a mill,
To stop the river from its flowing

The water accepts its fate,
Yet it rises as it waits

The dam stands it's ground
The river never finding a way around.

The river flows once more my friend
The dam did break and shall not mend

poem by Drew Fisher
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