“And unto Adam He said…. cursed is the ground for thy sake. Thorns…. shall bring it forth.”
“And the soldiers platted a crown of thorns, and put it on His head.”
In bitterest sorrow did the ground bring forth
Its fatal seed. Thine eye beheld the birth-
Beheld the travail of accursèd earth;
E’en then, O Lord! in greater love than wrath!
Thou sawest the sin that none could gather out-
The vineyard cover’d with the thorn and briar;
Thou sawest the fair land ready for the fire-
And still Thy pity compass’d it about.
Thou, O most merciful! didst spare the brand;
Thou didst redeem the Paradise of God;
The thorns were rooted from the stubborn sod.
In pain and toil, by Thine own blessèd hand.
How was our path to heaven o’er grown with sin-
Bramble, and thistle, and the poisonous weed!
Though hearts should break, and patient feet should bleed,
And strive and struggle, none could walk therein.
And Thou didst call us when we went astray-
Didst make our high road straight for evermore;
And, for our guidance, passèd on before,
Leaving Thy shining footprints in the way.
Still do the wild thorns hedge us round about;
Still grow the thistles from the ancient stock;
Still trails the bramble on the blasted rock-
But we can dig, and Thou wilt pull them out.
Ay, we can work-oh, help us in the strife!
Labour is sweet, for Thou dost share it now.
And we shall eat, in sweat of furrow’d brow,
Not earthly food, but Thine own Bread of Life.
And there are thorns of suffering left behind-
Sorrow and loss-that weigh our courage down;
But, ah! we know Thy sacramental crown
Was made of sin and sorrow, intertwined.
Give us of Thy sweet patience, Lord, we pray.
We would not spurn them with rebellious kicks,
Nor fret and strive, for Thou canst feel the pricks;
We too would wear them as a crown for aye.
We would put on Thy likeness-we, the least
And most unworthy. Ay, each piercing thorn,
In Thy name patiently and meekly worn,
Shall bear a blossom for the bridal feast.
Look down, O Brother with the yearning eyes!
Behold us kneeling at Thy bitter cross!
Grant us a share in all Thine earthly loss,
That we may share Thy gain in Paradise.
O weary Head! we see Thee drooping now
Beneath that diadem of mortal pain:
We see Thee sprinkled with the scarlet stain;-
Drop down the chrism on our polluted brow!
O sacred Head!-pale, beautiful, benign-
On our heads be Thy precious blood, we cry!
Lo, the destroying angel, passing by,
Shall spare to smite us-reverencing the sign.
A few random poems:
- Song—A Rose-bud by my Early Walk by Robert Burns
- Gray Dawn by Satish Verma
- What these girl means to me by Maphoto selokela
- Unrequited Pathological
- On Moonlit Heath and Lonesome Bank poem – A. E. Housman
- The Greek National Anthem by Rudyard Kipling
- Федор Сологуб – В его саду растет рябина
- On An Insight On Grecian Spring by Nithin Purple
- Владимир Высоцкий – Я любил и женщин и проказы
- Олег Бундур – Добрый день
- To My Friends poem – Alexander Pushkin
- Sonnet To A Young Lady On Her Birth-Day by William Cowper
- Autumn Fires by Robert Louis Stevenson
- English Poetry. Charles Lockhart. Epistle to a Friend, with a Copy of Burns’s Letters. Чарльз Локкарт. Послание другу при возвращении ему томиков стихов Бернса
- Genesis by Vachel Lindsay
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Robert Burns: Epitaph For James Smith:
- Robert Burns: Epitaph On John Dove, Innkeeper:
- Robert Burns: To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough:
- Robert Burns: Halloween: The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough understood; but for the sake of those who are unacquainted with the manners and traditions of the country where the scene is cast, notes are added to give some account of the principal charms and spells of that night, so big with prophecy to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. The passion of prying into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human nature in its rude state, in all ages and nations; and it may be some entertainment to a philosophic mind, if any such honour the author with a perusal, to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own.-R.B.
- Robert Burns: Farewell To Ballochmyle:
- Robert Burns: Young Peggy Blooms:
- Robert Burns: Second Epistle to Davie: A Brother Poet
- Robert Burns: Masonic Song:
- Robert Burns: Lines On Meeting With Lord Daer:
- Robert Burns: Address To The Toothache:
- Robert Burns: Farewell Song To The Banks Of Ayr: “I composed this song as I conveyed my chest so far on my road to Greenock, where I was to embark in a few days for Jamaica. I meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land.”-R. B.
- Robert Burns: O Thou Dread Power: Lying at a reverend friend’s house one night, the author left the following verses in the room where he slept:-
- Robert Burns: Epigram On Rough Roads:
- Robert Burns: Fragment Of Song:
- Robert Burns: The Brigs Of Ayr: Inscribed to John Ballantine, Esq., Ayr.
- Robert Burns: Reply To A Trimming Epistle Received From A Tailor:
- Robert Burns: Willie Chalmers: Mr. Chalmers, a gentleman in Ayrshire, a particular friend of mine, asked me to write a poetic epistle to a young lady, his Dulcinea. I had seen her, but was scarcely acquainted with her, and wrote as follows:-
- Robert Burns: Nature’s Law – A Poem: Humbly inscribed to Gavin Hamilton, Esq.
- Robert Burns: The Calf: To the Rev. James Steven, on his text, Malachi, ch. iv. vers. 2. “And ye shall go forth, and grow up, as Calves of the stall.”
- Robert Burns: Thomson’s Edward and Eleanora.:
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Ada Cambridge (1844 – 1926), also known as Ada Cross, was an English-born Australian author and poetess. She wrote more than 25 works of fiction, three volumes of poetry and two autobiographical works.