“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:
- To His Noble Friend, Mr. Richard Lovelace, Upon His Poems poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Haunted by you by Melissa Skelton
- Gleaners Of Fame poem – Alfred Austin
- When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom’d. by Walt Whitman
- Ольга Берггольц – Простите бедность этих строк
- Incendiary by Vernon Scannell
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Современная идиллия
- Владимир Набоков – Пускай все горестней и глуше
- The Ballad Of Father O’Hart by William Butler Yeats
- Epitaph on a Noisy Polemic by Robert Burns
- Robert Burns: O Can Ye Labour Lea?:
- On Your Midnight Pallet Lying poem – A. E. Housman
- Sonnet 41: Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits by William Shakespeare
- Song—Anna, thy Charms by Robert Burns
- A Morning Exercise by William Wordsworth
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 Epitaph:
- Robert Burns: Elegy On Captain Matthew Henderson: A Gentleman who held the Patent for his Honours immediately from Almighty God.
- Robert Burns: Election Ballad: At the close of the contest for representing the Dumfries Burghs, 1790. Addressed to R. Graham, Esq. of Fintry.
- Robert Burns: Gudewife, Count The Lawin:
- Robert Burns: I Murder Hate:
- Robert Burns: The Gowden Locks Of Anna:
- Robert Burns: Elegy On Willie Nicol’s Mare:
- Robert Burns: Lines To A Gentleman,: Who had sent the Poet a Newspaper, and offered to continue it free of Expense.
- Robert Burns: Scots’ Prologue For Mr. Sutherland: On his Benefit-Night, at the Theatre, Dumfries.
- Robert Burns: Sketch -New Year’s Day [1790]: To Mrs. Dunlop.
- Robert Burns: Prologue Spoken At The Theatre Of Dumfries: On New Year’s Day Evening, 1790.
- Robert Burns: Election Ballad For Westerha’:
- Robert Burns: The Five Carlins: An Election Ballad
- Robert Burns: Epistle To Dr. Blacklock: Ellisland, 21st Oct., 1789
- Robert Burns: To Mary In Heaven:
- Robert Burns: The Whistle -A Ballad:
- Robert Burns: My Heart’s In The Highlands:
- Robert Burns: The Captive Ribband:
- Robert Burns: A Waukrife Minnie:
- Robert Burns: Awa’ Whigs, Awa’:
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.