Poem for the Day

Posted: 23 April 2014

This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

from Richard II
William Shakespeare

Poem for the Day

Posted: 22 April 2014

Give us a wreck – or two, Good Lord
For winter in Topsail Tickle is hard
With grey frost creepin' like a Mortal Sin
And perishin' lack of bread in the bin

A grand, rich wreck, we do humbly pray
Busted abroad at the break-of-day...
And hove clear in 'cross Topsail Reef
With vittles and hear to beguile our grief

One grand wreck, or maybe two
With gear and vittles to see us through
Til the spring starts up like the leap-of-day
And the fish strike back into Topsail Bay

Lord of reefs and tides and sky
Heed ye our need and hark to our cry:
Bread by the bag and beef by the cask
Ease for sore bellies is all we ask

One rich wreck, for Thy hand is strong
A barque or a brig from up-along
Bemused by the twisty tides, oh Lord
For winter in Topsail Tickle is hard

Loud and long will we sing thy praise
Merciful Father, O Ancient of Days
Master of fog and tide and reef
Heave us a wreck to beguile our grief

The Wreckers Prayer
Theodore Goodridge Roberts

Poem for the Day

Posted: 21 April 2014

‘And are these cold, light words your last?’ he said,
And rose, his face made pale with outraged love.
She answered gaily, ‘Are they not enough?’
And lightly laughed until his spirit bled,
While snake-like on his grief her beauty fed.
He looked upon her face once more for proof,
Then through and through his lips the sharp teeth drove,
Till with the bitter dew of blood made red....
At length he said, ‘And so ‘twas but a jest,
Yet now may God forgive you, if God can!’
And, passing, left her calm and self-possessed.
She watched him cross the lawn with eyes bent low,
Where she had kissed his face one hour ago.

Love's Warfare
Philip Bourke Marston

Poem for the Day

Posted: 20 April 2014

The silver trumpets rang across the Dome:
The people knelt upon the ground with awe:
And borne upon the necks of men I saw,
Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.
Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,
And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,
Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:
In splendour and in light the Pope passed home....
My heart stole back across wide wastes of years
To One who wandered by a lonely sea,
And sought in vain for any place of rest:
'Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest.
I, only I, must wander wearily,
And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.'

Easter Day
Oscar Wilde

Easter Haiku #8 Sunday, Holy Week - Easter Sunday

Posted: 20 April 2014

Magdalene morning.
An empty grave discovered,
The hot, bitter tears.

Then a holy thing.
Divine gardener recognised.
Mary spreads the news.
Breakfast on the shore.
At the end of a hard shift
Men need food, not prayers.

Bill Adair

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