“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:
- Love Sonnet LX poem – Zora Bernice May Cross poems
- Last Battle Cid
- Come by Samuel Stephen Wakdok
- Lepracaun or Fairy Shoemaker, The by William Allingham
- Epigram on Miss Fontenelle by Robert Burns
- Robert Burns: Raging Fortune:
- Василий Казин – Кирилл и Мефодий
- Олег Бундур – Сложный предмет
- Robert Burns: Her Answer:
- Travel to Infinite Places by Michael Levy
- Владимир Высоцкий – Дорожный дневник: Часть II
- We embraced and talked about rains by Vinko Kalinic
- Signet of Eternity by Rabindranath Tagore
- Sonnet V
- Song of the Universal. by Walt Whitman
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: The Flowery Banks Of Cree:
- Robert Burns: Young Jamie, Pride Of A’ The Plain:
- Robert Burns: A Red, Red Rose: [Hear Red, Red Rose]
- Robert Burns: A Vision:
- Robert Burns: The Minstrel At Lincluden:
- Robert Burns: A Fiddler In The North:
- Robert Burns: Wilt Thou Be My Dearie?:
- Robert Burns: Remorseful Apology:
- Robert Burns: Complimentary Epigram On Maria Riddell:
- Robert Burns: Address Spoken by Miss Fontenelle on her Benefit Night, December 4th, 1793, at the Theatre, Dumfries.:
- Robert Burns: My Spouse Nancy:
- Robert Burns: On Mrs. Riddell’s Birthday:
- Robert Burns: Thine Am I, My Faithful Fair:
- Robert Burns: Deluded Swain, The Pleasure:
- Robert Burns: Where Are The Joys I have Met?:
- Robert Burns: Thou Hast Left Me Ever, Jamie:
- Robert Burns: Down The Burn, Davie:
- Robert Burns: Behold The Hour, The Boat Arrive:
- Robert Burns: Robert Bruce’s March To Bannockburn:
- Robert Burns: Dainty Davie:
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.