The Instinct of Hope

www.pbfa.org

John Clare

Is there another world for this frail dust
To warm with life and be itself again?
Something about me daily speaks there must,
And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?
’Tis nature’s prophesy that such will be,
And everything seems struggling to explain
The close sealed volume of its mystery.
Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace
As seeming anxious of eternity,
To meet that calm and find a resting place.
E’en the small violet feels a future power
And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,
And surely man is no inferior flower
To die unworthy of a second spring?

A poem of hope as we enter Spring finally. 🙂

God bless you all my darling avidReaders and have a great weekend!

Have A Good Day

GW Prints – WordPress.com

Lenora McWhorter

May your blessings be many
and your troubles be few.
And may you feel God’s presence   
in all you say and do.

May your family surround you
and give you reasons to smile.
May your friends and loved ones
go with you an extra mile.

May you know joy and gladness
and have a life of peace.
And may your load grow lighter 
and all your cares decrease.

May your sleep be ever so sweet
as you retire each night.
And when you wake each morning,
may your burdens feel light.

May mercy and grace follow you
every minute of every day.
And may you feel the love of God
As you go on your way!

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/have-a-good-day

Have a blessed Friday, all my darling avidReaders. 🙂

Be happy. Be glad. It’s weekend everybody!

We Are All One People

Pholoa Motlanthe, from St Martin de Porres School, Orlando West, shares a poem he wrote for Heritage Day.

This poem, written by one of South Africa’s young boys, has a depth and profundity that we could all learn from. No matter where we come from, we were all one people and have more in common than we think we do. Instead of looking down on one another, let’s look up and learn from each other.

You struggle as others. Fight as others. Cry as others.

We are all the same.

God bless you all my darling avidReaders. Today as we celebrate our history, let’s learn to accept another’s history, too. Once you can understand their past, you’ll understand their present.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The Cloths of Heaven; William Butler Yeats

William Butler Yeats

HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Your poem of the day 🙂

I first heard this poem in the movie Equilibrium. If you haven’t watched it–DO! It is an amazing film!

God bless you all, my darling avidReaders 🙂

Hope; Emily Dickinson

nationalgeographic.com

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Your poem of the day. 🙂

I’ll try and post another article today or tomorrow. I have one I’m dying to share with all of you.

God bless you all, my darling avidReaders 🙂

Paradise Lost; John Milton

https://christianindex.org/bible-study-for-march-15-salvation/

Excerpt pages 62 – 63; Book III.

“…But yet all is not done; Man disobeying,

Disloyal, breaks his fealty, and sins

Against the high supremacy of Heaven,

Affecting God-head, and, so losing all,

To expiate his treason hath nought left,

But to destruction sacred and devote,

He, with whole posterity, must die,

Did he or justice must; unless for him

Some other able, and as willing, pay

The rigid satisfaction, death for death.

Say, heavenly Powers, where shall we find such love?

Which of you will be mortal, to redeem

Man’s mortal crime, and just to unjust to save?

Dwells in all Heaven charity so dear?”

He ask’d, but all the Heavenly: on Man’s behalf

Patron or intercessour none appear’d,

Much less that durst upon his own head draw

The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set.

And now without redemption all mankind

Must have been lost, adjudg’d to Death and Hell

By doom severe, had not the Son of God,

In whom the fulness dwells of love divine,

His dearest mediation thus renew’d.

“Father, thy word is past, Man shall find grace;

And shall grace not find means, that find her way,

The speediest of thy winged messengers,

To visit all thy creatures, and to all

Comes unprevented, unimplor’d, unsought?

Happy for man, so coming; he her aid

Can never seek, once dead in sins, and lost;

Atonement for himself, or offering meet,

Indebted and undone, hath none to bring;

Behold me then: me for him, life for life

I offer: on me let thine anger fall;

Account me Man; I for his sake will leave

Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee

Freely put off, and for himlastly die

Well, pleased; on me let Death wreak all his rage.

Under his gloomy power I shall not long

Lie vanquished. Thou hast given me to possess

Life in myself for ever; by thee I live;

Though now to Death I yield, and am his due,

All that of me can die, yet that debt paid,

Thou wilt not leave me in the loathsome grave

His prey, nor suffer my unspotted soul

For ever with corruption there to dwell

But I shall rise victorious and subdue

My vanquisher, spoiled of his vaunted spoil

Death his death’s wound shall then receive and stoop

Inglorious, of his mortal sting disarmed;

I thought the ample air in triumph high

Shall lead Hell captive maugre Hell, and show

The powers of darkness bound. Thou, at the sight

Pleased, out of Heaven shalt look down and smile,

While, by thee raised, I ruin all my foes;

Death last, and with his carcass glut the grave;

Then, with the multitude of my redeemed,

Shall enter Heaven, long absent, and return,

Father, to see thy face, wherein no cloud

Of anger shall remain, but peace assured

And reconcilement: wrath be no more

Thenceforth, but in thy presence joy entire.

The above is Christ’s plan of salvation and the sacrifice He made for YOU AND ME. He loves us so much that from the very beginning He knew He would have to leave his home, his Father and die for OUR sin.

God bless you all, my darling avidReaders.

“The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus

Emma Lazarus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Your daily dose of poetry. I will endeavour to post more and more articles. Perhaps I should tell you all a little about South Africa’s own legends? Let me know in the comments what you think?

God bless you all and have a lovely Saturday 🙂

A Psalm of Life; Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG
MAN
SAID TO THE PSALMIST

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

God bless and have a lovely weekend, all my darling avidReaders. 🙂

No Man Is an Island

John Donne

John Donne
No man is an island, entire of itself;
every man is a piece of the continent,
a part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less,
as well as if a promontory were,
as well as if a manor of thy friend’s
or of thine own were.
Any man’s death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind;
and therefore never send to know
for whom the bell tolls;
it tolls for thee.

Your poem of the day, my dear avids 🙂