By: Sister Mary Therese
The night is down on Domremy,
Dark wings have circled every tree,
Shut out the stars and steeped the sky,
In anguish lifted like a cry.
Dark wings have circled every tree,
Shut out the stars and steeped the sky,
In anguish lifted like a cry.
Shaking the young stars from her gown,
Pushing the moon back, Joan peers down,
On lands by terror twisted bare,
That shakes with battle everywhere.
Pushing the moon back, Joan peers down,
On lands by terror twisted bare,
That shakes with battle everywhere.
A blight is on the world again;
A blight is on the souls of man;
And dark is death and dark is birth,
As sorrow runs along the earth.
A blight is on the souls of man;
And dark is death and dark is birth,
As sorrow runs along the earth.
How can she keep her soul in calm,
When towers of Reims and Notre Dame,
Send up their cry of muted bells,
That tear her breast with moans and knells?
When towers of Reims and Notre Dame,
Send up their cry of muted bells,
That tear her breast with moans and knells?
How must her hands have ached to hold,
Her shining sword when pain patrolled,
The glory-ridden crimson shore,
Of Batan and Corregidor.
Her shining sword when pain patrolled,
The glory-ridden crimson shore,
Of Batan and Corregidor.
How must her lips have burned to cry,
A challenge to the southern sky,
For heroes who would never see,
The sunset stain the Coral Sea.
A challenge to the southern sky,
For heroes who would never see,
The sunset stain the Coral Sea.
Young Joan is restless in the sky;
Young Joan is burning to defy,
The sign that sickens men with pride,
Back to the wars young Joan would ride!
Young Joan is burning to defy,
The sign that sickens men with pride,
Back to the wars young Joan would ride!
To rout out the bitter pagan horde,
O God of peace, give Joan a sword!
And in this moment, send her down,
To Domremy, to every town!
And in this moment, send her down,
To Domremy, to every town!
Dear Senorita Rita,
ReplyDeleteI recently came across another lovely poem which I thought you might like to add to your wonderful collection. Here it is:
The Kitchen Prayer
Lord of pots and pans and things,
Since I've not time to be
A saint by doing lovely things
Or watching late with Thee
Or dreaming in the dawn light
Or storming Heaven's gates,
Make me a saint by getting meals
And washing up the plates.
Although I must have Martha's hands,
I have a Mary mind
And when I black the boots and shoes,
Thy sandals, Lord, I find.
I think of how they trod the earth,
What time I scrub the floor,
Accept this meditation Lord,
I haven't time for more.
Keep up the good work and thank you!
In the Sacred Heart,
Hannah
Thank you for the suggestion, Hannah! What a lovely poem! Please feel welcome to tell me of any others that you like so that I may add them!
ReplyDeleteKeep fighting and may God bless you!
Rita :-)
I thought you might like this one too. It has a good lesson in it for those evolutionists!
ReplyDeleteThe Monkey's Disgrace
Two monkeys sat in a coconut tree,
Discussing things as they're said to be.
Said one to the other, “Now listen, you,
There's a certain rumour that can't be true:
That man descended from our noble race,
The very idea is a black disgrace.
“No monkey ever deserted his wife,
Starved her babies and ruined her life.
And you've never known a mother monk
To leave her babies with another to bunk.
“Here's another thing a monk won't do,
Go out at night and get in a stew;
Or use a club or gun or knife
To take some other monkey's life.
“Yes! Man descended the ornery cuss,
But brother, he didn't descend from us.”
A.J.Bridge
This one doesn't speak to me as much, but it is interesting. :-)
ReplyDeleteThis is one of my favourites:
ReplyDeleteSplinters from the Cross
Little headaches, little heartaches
Little griefs of every day.
Little trials and vexations,
How they throng around our way!
One great cross, immense and heavy,
so it seems to our weak will,
Might be borne with resignation,
But these many small ones kill.
Yet all life is formed of small things,
Little leaves, make up the trees,
Many tiny drops of water
Blending, make the mighty seas.
Let us not then by impatience
Mar the beauty of the whole,
But for love of Jesus bear all
In the silence of our soul.
Asking Him for grace sufficient
To sustain us through each loss,
And to treasure each small offering
As a splinter from His Cross.
– Author Unknown –
God bless,
Hannah