“He asked life of thee, and thou gavest him a long life, even for ever and ever.”
Life-length of days-the time to work and strive
In his Lord’s vineyard; to bring heavenly light
Into the drear, dark places of the earth,
And make them fair and fruitful in His sight.
Life-it seem’d all so bright and beautiful once!
It lay spread out before his kindling eyes,
A land of sunny hills, in white mist veil’d,
Of sweet green valleys under summer skies.
Such tender light and tender shadows there!
No dazzling blaze, no savage blots of gloom,
No keen-cut outline of the barren cliff,
No glaring waste,-but all one gentle bloom
Of happy, innocent hope,-a morning tint
Of pearly grey and gold, with just a shade
Of bright cloud-colour, giving life to it,-
He saw not then the havoc death had made.
But soon the white mist melted in the heat
Of noonday, and the wasted fields lay bare-
Vineyard of Eden-like a bright face, scarred
With sin and shame and weariness and care.
And his vague aspiration took a shape.
“Grant me, dear Lord, if it seem good to Thee,
To labour here, with manhood’s utter strength,-
O Lord, good Lord, intrust this work to me!
“Let me have time to toil-a long, long day-
To dig and delve and root out wasteful weeds,
To cut down briars and thorns, and help to plough
Furrows where angels may sow heavenly seeds.
“Give me to foster, with my faith and love,
Frail, early flowers, that fear to droop and fade!
Father, I will not shrink for bleeding hands,
For heat nor cold-I do not feel afraid!”
His voice was heard-his will accepted. God
Gave deep and true fulfilment to his prayer,-
Life-life eternal, which should nevermore
The taint of death, or sin, or sorrow bear!
Oh pray, ye blind ones, as the beggar pray’d
When He of Nazareth pass’d by! Oh pray
With simple faith and worship,-fear ye not
God’s gracious ear will deafly turn away.
Ye know He bids us to tell out our wants,
Knowing them all; give up to Him your will,
And trust Him-trust Him. In his wondrous love
He deigns the lowliest longing to fulfil.
Ay, and with that fulfilment which we ne’er
Shall grasp or fathom-till we come to see
Our strange, mysterious human life unveil’d
In the clear daylight of eternity.
The beggar ask’d for sight-Christ answer’d him,
For his faith’s sake, and gave him sight indeed.
Just so his silent hands and darken’d eyes
Were lifted once, for grace of “life” to plead.
And God fulfilled his prayer as utterly!
He gave him life-the life of saints above,
Beyond all earthly dreaming sweet and glad-
An endless life in His eternal love!
A few random poems:
- Where Are You
- Gipsies by William Wordsworth
- High School Crush by Roberto Cocina
- Федор Тютчев – Как летней иногда порою
- Singing Darkness by Satish Verma
- Polly In A Porny by Shel Silverstein
- Михаил Лермонтов – Благодарность
- On First Looking Into Chapman’s Homer poem – John Keats poems
- Владимир Маяковский – Раньше офицера только рубить учили… (РОСТА №632)
- The Grey Rock by William Butler Yeats
- Blue Evening by Rupert Brooke
- Robert Burns: Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish:
- Владимир Набоков – Безумец
- Dews of Silence by Raju Baruah
- may each find the peace within by Raj Arumugam
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: A Poet’s Welcome To His Love-Begotten Daughter: The First Instance That Entitled Him To The Venerable Appellation Of Father
- Robert Burns: Epistle To John Rankine: Enclosing Some Poems
- Robert Burns: Reply To An Announcement By J. Rankine: On His Writing To The Poet, That A Girl In That Part Of The Country Was With A Child To Him.
- Robert Burns: Ballad On The American War:
- Robert Burns Country: In The Character Of A Ruined Farmer:
- Robert Burns: On My Ever Honoured Father:
- Robert Burns: On My Own Friend And My Father’s Friend, Wm. Muir In Tarbolton Mill:
- Robert Burns: On James Grieve, Laird Of Boghead, Tarbolton :
- Robert Burns: Epitaph On Wm. Hood, Senr., In Tarbolton:
- Robert Burns: Remorse: Fragment
- Robert Burns: Wha Is That At My Bower-Door:
- Robert Burns: Green Grow The Rashes: A Fragment
- Robert Burns: My Nanie, O:
- Robert Burns: Song Composed In August:
- Robert Burns: The Rigs O’ Barley:
- Robert Burns: I Dream’d I Lay:
- Robert Burns: Poor Mailie’s Elegy:
- Robert Burns: Death And Dying Words Of Poor Mailie, The Author’s Only Pet Yowe., The. An Unco Mournfu’ Tale:
- Robert Burns: John Barleycorn: A Ballad :
- Robert Burns: My Father Was A Farmer:
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.