Poem for the Day - Holy Thursday by William Blake

Posted: 29 March 2018

Poem for the Day

Is this a holy thing to see,
In a rich and fruitful land,
Babes reducd to misery, ...
Fed with cold and usurous hand?

Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!

And their sun does never shine.
And their fields are bleak & bare.
And their ways are fill'd with thorns.
It is eternal winter there.

For where-e'er the sun does shine,
And where-e'er the rain does fall:
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall.

Holy Thursday
William Blake

Easter Haiku #4 - Wednesday, Holy Week

Posted: 28 March 2018

Easter Haiku #4 – Wednesday, Holy Week

Dark Gethsemane.
Strength to drink the bitter cup
All we can hope for.

Bill Adair

Poem for the Day - Loveliest Of Trees The Cherry Now by A. E. Housman

Posted: 28 March 2018

Poem for the Day

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride ...
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

Lovliest Of Trees The Cherry Now
A. E. Housman

Easter Haiku #3 - Tuesday, Holy Week

Posted: 27 March 2018

Easter Haiku #3 – Tuesday, Holy Week

A moment in time.
Her perfume wastefully poured
Kneeling at his feet?

In giving our best,
Our most precious possession,
We anoint the poor.

All we have is loaned.
We merely custodians.
Use talents wisely.

Bill Adair

Poem for the Day - Song by W. H. Auden

Posted: 27 March 2018

Poem for the Day 

The chimney sweepers
Wash their faces and forget to wash the neck;
The lighthouse keepers
Let the lamps go out and leave the ships to wreck;
The prosperous baker
Leaves the rolls in hundreds in the oven to burn;
The undertaker
Pins a small note on the coffin saying, “Wait till I return,
I’ve got a date with Love.”

And deep-sea divers
Cut their boots off and come bubbling to the top,
And engine-drivers
Bring expresses in the tunnel to a stop;
The village rector
Dashes down the side-aisle half-way through a psalm;
The sanitary inspector
Runs off with the cover of the cesspool on his arm-
To keep his date with Love.

W. H. Auden

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