Glory be to God by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Glory be to God by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Glory be to God for dappled things –

For skies of couple color as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls, finches’ wings;

Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plow;

And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: 

Praise Him.

Friends of Mine by James W. Foley

Friends of Mine

Good-morning, Brother Sunshine,
    Good-morning, Sister Song,
  I beg your humble pardon
    If you’ve waited very long.
  I thought I heard you rapping,
    To shut you out were sin,
  My heart is standing open,
    Won’t you
      walk
        right
          in?

  Good-morning, Brother Gladness,
    Good-morning, Sister Smile,
  They told me you were coming,
    So I waited on a while.
  I’m lonesome here without you,
    A weary while it’s been,
  My heart is standing open,
    Won’t you
      walk
        right
          in?

  Good-morning, Brother Kindness,
    Good-morning, Sister Cheer,
  I heard you were out calling,
    So I waited for you here.
  Some way, I keep forgetting
    I have to toil or spin
  When you are my companions,
    Won’t you
      walk
        right
          in?

James W. Foley.

Reality by Rabia

Reality 

 In love, nothing exists between heart and heart.
Speech is born out of longing,
True description from the real taste.
The one who tastes, knows;
the one who explains, lies.
How can you describe the true form of Something
In whose presence you are blotted out?
And in whose being you still exist?
And who lives as a sign for your journey?

– Rabia  

If I Can Stop ~ by Emily Dickinson

If I Can Stop 

IF I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain; 
If I can ease one life the aching, 
Or cool one pain, 
Or help one fainting robin 
Unto his nest again, 
I shall not live in vain.

by Emily Dickinson

The Gladness of Nature ~ by William Cullen Bryant

The Gladness Of Nature 

IS this a time to be cloudy and sad, 
When our mother Nature laughs around; 
When even the deep blue heavens look glad, 
And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren, 
And the gossip of swallows through all the sky; 
The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den, 
And the wilding bee hums merrily by.

The clouds are at play in the azure space, 
And their shadows at play on the bright green vale, 
And here they stretch to the frolic chase, 
And there they roll on the easy gale.

There’s a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, 
There’s a titter of winds in that beechen tree, 
There’s a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, 
And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.

And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles 
On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray, 
On the leaping waters and gay young isles; 
Ay, look, and he’ll smile thy gloom away.

Joy ~ Poem by Sara Teasdale

I AM wild, I will sing to the trees,
     I will sing to the stars in the sky,
  I love, I am loved, he is mine,
     Now at last I can die!

  I am sandaled with wind and with flame,
  I have heart-fire and singing to give,
  I can tread on the grass or the stars,
     Now at last I can live!

by Sara Teasdale

The Fighter ~ Poem by S.E. Kiser

The Fighter

by S. E. Kiser

I fight a battle every day
Against discouragement and fear;
Some foe stands always in my way,
The path ahead is never clear!
I must forever be on guard
Against the doubts that skulk along;
I get ahead by fighting hard,
But fighting keeps my spirit strong.

I hear the croakings of Despair,
The dark predictions of the weak;
I find myself pursued by Care,
No matter what the end I seek;
My victories are small and few,
It matters not how hard I strive;
Each day the fight begins anew,
But fighting keeps my hopes alive.

My dreams are spoiled by circumstance,
My plans are wrecked by Fate or Luck;
Some hour, perhaps, will bring my chance,
But that great hour has never struck;
My progress has been slow and hard,
I’ve had to climb and crawl and swim,
Fighting for every stubborn yard,
But I have kept in fighting trim.

I have to fight my doubts away,
And be on guard against my fears;
The feeble croaking of Dismay
Has been familiar through the years;
My dearest plans keep going wrong,
Events combine to thwart my will,
But fighting keeps my spirit strong,
And I am undefeated still[…]”

Excerpt From
It Can Be Done / Poems of Inspiration