Posh Hopkins

   

Here is Prince Charles reading Gerard Manley Hopkins' second most famous poem, "God's Grandeur."

"God's Grandeur" Prince Charles 2021 Easter Message

Here is the text for this poem, with explanatory notes, from an earlier post in this blog:

"God's Grandeur"

This is not a strong "resurrection poem"; Hopkins did write some Easter specific poems.  If you click the "Easter" link, you will pull some up.  But at least it does mention "the Holy Ghost."  At one time, Charles seemed to be drifting away from Christian-specific matters, but that does not seem to be the case anymore.

I imagine Charles chose this, partly, because of the environmental theme.  I also wonder if, as Prince of Wales, he did it for the Welsh connection.  Hopkins was an English Jesuit priest, but his most favorite place of serving was Wales.  He learned some Welsh.  (For a poetry day event several years ago, the Prince of Wales read a poem by the Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas.)

Just for "fun", here is a poem I wrote as a "riff" off of a line in "God's Grandeur."

"Nature is Never Spent" 

Moisture Comes to Arizona

Rain, Rain,

Came again,

Came to ease our climate's pain.

Cloud, Cloud,

You're no shroud;

You're a joy to have around.

Snow, Snow,

Do not go:

Beautify us here below.

"Cleanse me with hyssop,

And I shall be clean;

Wash me,

And I shall be whiter than snow."  (Psalm 51:7)*

Grey, Grey,

Gone away:

Would you stay another day?

Sun, Sun,

Elsewhere fun,

Here you give our drought a run.

Rain, Rain,

Come again:

Leave us not with hopes in vain.

"'For just as the rain comes down

And snow from the heavens

And does not return there

Without watering the earth...

Thus is My Word

Which goes forth from my mouth:

It does not return to Me void.'"  (from Isaiah 55:10-11)*

--C. Marie Byars, (c) 2021

*original retranslations of the Bible from Hebrew

 

This poem is fourth in a series of drought & rain across Arizona.  These are the other three:

What Color is Your Christmas?

Rain Redux

Perspectives

The below links show pictures of the author (and family) sledding in the US Southwest across the past several years.

More Sledding, More Snow

Sledding

 

 

What Color Is Your Christmas?

Customs say that Christmas colors

Feature red and green:

Reams and reams of dusty paper

Tell what these hues mean.

Newer en vogue Christmas pallettes

Favor blue and silver-- 

Mildest hints of bracing cold,

Tinselly chills with frosty lure.

"I'm dreaming of a...

    ...blue, blue Christmas."

Irving wrote of Christmas white,

Decked in sparkling snow;

Here an unplanned black-eyed Susan

Joins planned lemons dressed in yellow.

"Susan" on December 1st

Lemons on December 17th
Photo by my husband

Others might await their snow:

Winters here bring liquid flow.

Yet our rain has gone away--

Still not back this holiday.

If the rain falls on us all,

Good and evil both the same*,

What does this prolonged' drought

Say of our respective blame?

Christmas comes, Christmas goes,

Elsewhere as they brave the snows.

Christ's love blankets all our sin:

Someday all that's right will win.

--C. Marie Byars; (c) December, 2020

*Matthew 5:45

This poem forms a triptych with two other poems on our lack of rain:

Rain Redux

Perspectives

It partially "twins" with the black-eyed Susan poem below and forms a partial "triptych" with the visuals in all three of these posts:

Black-Eyed Susan (poem)

Black-Eyed Susans (homegrown images)

 

[Joy & Peace in Believing]

(from the Olney hymns)

Sometimes a light surprises
     The Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord who rises
     With healing on His wings;*
When comforts are declining,
     He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining,
     To cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation
     We sweetly then pursue
The theme of God's salvation,
     And find it ever new;
Set free from present sorrow,
     We cheerfully can say,
E'en let the unknown to-morrow
     Bring with it what it may!

It can bring with it nothing,
     But He will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies clothing,**
     Will clothe His people too;
Beneath the spreading heavens
     No creature but is fed;
And He who feeds the ravens
     Will give His children bread.

Though vine nor fig tree neither***
     Their wonted fruit shall bear,
Though all the field should wither,
     Nor flocks nor herds be there:
Yet God the same abiding,
     His praise shall tune my voice;
For, while in Him confiding,
     I cannot but rejoice.

--William Cowper [pronounced "Cooper"], 1779; part of Olney 

hymns, written alongside his friend, John Newton, author of 

"Amazing Grace" 

*Malchi 4:2--  the Sun of Righteousness [Christ] will rise with 

healing  in His wings. This idea is also found in a verse of "Hark 

the Herald Angels Sing"

**Matthew 6 & Luke 12--  Jesus told His followers that God

clothes the grasses in beautiful lilies that outshine wealthy King 

Solomon's best clothing.  He feeds the birds, specifically ravens, 

though they don't work and plan as the farmer does.  Jesus tells His 

followers that His Father will certainly take care of them, also, and 

that they shouldn't worry. 

***Habakkuk 3:17-19, a paraphrase.  If all else goes badly, rejoice. 

This is not idle, wishful thinking, nor pie in the sky optimism.  

Cowper suffered from crippling, pitch black depression at a time

before there were psychiatric medications. 

(Habakkuk is one of my favorite books of the Bible.) 

The Right Mind

[see also Isaiah 52: 13-15]

Let this mind also be in you, which was in Christ Jesus:
Who, subsisting in the form of God
Did not [consider this] to be grasped; 
He did not esteem it to be equal with God.
But He emptied Himself into the form of a servant,
Having taken the likeness of humanity*
Having been made and having been found
In appearance as a human,
He humbled Himself, 
Having become obedient unto death,
Even death on the cross.

Therefore God has also highly exalted Him
And granted to Him 
The NAME above every name,**
So that at the NAME of JESUS,
Every knee should bow,
In heaven and earth and under the earth,
And every tongue should confess 
That KURIOS JESUS CHRISTOS
["that JESUS CHRIST is LORD"
                   or
"that THE LORD is JESUS CHRIST"]
To the glory of God the Father.
              --St. Paul, Philippians 2:5-13
                (translated c.m.b. April, 2018)

*Not a stab at gender inclusiveness, but more faithful to the Greek. ["Anthropos", humanity vs. "aner", a male man.]
**see Revelations 19:12

Jesus, Refuge of the Weary

Jesus, Refuge of the weary,
Blest Redeemer Whom we love.
Fountain in life's desert dreary,
Savior from the world above.
Oh, how oft Thine eyes, offended
Gaze upon the sinner's fall;
Yet upon the cross extended,
You have born the pain of all.

Do we pass that cross unheeding,
Breathing no repentant vow,
Though we see Thee wounded, bleeding,
See Thy thorn encircled brow?
Yet Thy sinless death has brought us
Life eternal, peace, and rest;
Only what your grace has taught us
Calms the sinner’s deep distress.

Jesus, may our hearts be burning
With more fervent love for Thee;
May our eyes be ever turning
To Thy cross of agony
Till in glory, parted never
From the blessed Savior’s side,
Carved into our hearts forever,
Dwell the cross, the Crucified.

By Girolamo Savonarola; translated by Lady Jane Wilde, adapted

Girolamo Savonarola was an Italian Dominican friar and preacher.  (In his zeal to reform the Roman Catholic Church, before Luther came along, he unfortunately destroyed some secular art in Italy.) He called for Christian renewal and expressed skepticism towards the culture of his day.

North Rim Grand Canyon

[July 2017 vacation]

Some things are poetry without words!

Angel's Window, on of the few places to see the Colorado River from the North Rim.  

(Look closely through the window on the close-up.)

There is also the escaped buffalo herd from a failed cattle-buffalo crossing experiment over 100 years ago.  (They have some cattle DNA.)

October 2010 South Rim Visit

"In His hand are the depths of the earth;

The peaks of the mountains are His also." (Psalm 95:4)

"...He who was seated on the throne said,

'See, I am making all things new...

  To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment.'

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more,

neither shall there be mourning,

nor crying, nor pain anymore,

for the former things have passed away.”

(Revelation 21:5,6b,4)

More Backyard Blooms

GIANT Maroon & Yellow Sunflower

Over 6' Tall

Watermelon Blossoms

Intertwined with Squash and Loofa Vines

California Poppies

Flowers at Home

If this is how nature looks while it's "groaning"  (Romans 8; and we live in a desert, so we do see nature groan at its worst!), how much better will heaven be?

BACKYARD: Prickly pear cacti, African daisies, sunflower (another not blooming).

green bean plant (base of sunflower), pumpkin plant (foreground), marigolds (foreground)

OLD ROSE (bred for desert life):  Closer to "wild rose."

Related to fruit tree family (plum, apple, cherry, etc.)

Journey of the Magi

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sorefooted,
   refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling and running away,
  and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out,
   and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty
   and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees* on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away
in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for
pieces of silver**,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information,
  and so we continued
And arriving at evening,
not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was
(you might say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt.
I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different;
   this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us,
   like Death, our death***.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old
   dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.


---T.S. Eliot, 1927  (c) by owner

* A foreshadowing of the three crosses, Jesus's and the two thieves
**Judas betraying Jesus for 30 pieces of silver; the soldiers gambling for his cloak
**Christ came to suffer death for our sins.  Death was haunting even the birth.

Poem in October

 
It was my thirtieth year to heaven*
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heronPriested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth.

My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumnAnd walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.

A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill's shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.

Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With its horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could I marvel
My birthday
Away but the weather turned around.

It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky
Streamed again a wonder of summer
With apples
Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
Through the parables
Of sun light
And the legends of the green chapels

And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
These were the woods the river and seaWhere a boy
In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
And the mystery
Sang alive
Still in the water and singingbirds.

And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true
Joy of the long dead child sang burning
In the sun.
It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven* stood there then in the summer noon
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
O may my heart's truth
Still be sung
On this high hill in a year's turning.                         

---Dylan Thomas, 1944 (Welsh)   

*A person alive 30 years, that far along his journey to heaven.

For All the Saints

[a little late for All Saints Day on November 1st,
but the thoughts go on]

For all the saints who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confess,
Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest,
Alleluia! Alleluia!

 O blest communion, fellowship divine,
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia! Alleluia!


 

My grandma, in her glory since 1996

But, lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of Glory passes on His way.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

 From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Alleluia! Alleluia!

 The golden evening brightens in the west;
Soon, soon, to faithful warriors cometh rest.
Sweet is the calm of Paradise the blest.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

---William W. How, 1864



 

Choreographed

Nature's singing me her song,
And around me is a dance:
      The sunlight on the water,
       The aspens' quaking leaves,
       The playful dragonflies,
        My own two happy feet.

 

My heart is filled with wild joy;
I know who wrote the song:
       He gave it melody
       And wove in harmony;
       He sets its steady rhythm
       And makes the whole world dance.

You hear the moments out-of-tune
When Nature's lost the harmony;
     But my Composer saved a better song
     To sing another place...
     Where melodies are never sad,
     And the only song is love.

                     
    ----C. Marie Byars; Ft. Jackson, SC; May, 1986
          [written with memories of the southwestern U.S. in mind]