Best Catholic Verses to Read for Second Reading at a Funeral
We present to your attention a selection of laconic poems by famous English and American poets. The poems will open up the world of nice, tender feelings and philosophical outlook on life, vivid cheerful jokes and witty English humor to you. Brusque poems are easy to read and memorize.
George Gordon Byron
Sun of the sleepless! melancholy star!
Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far,
That evidence'st the darkness thou canst not dispel,
How like fine art thou to Joy call back'd well!
So gleams the past, the light of other days,
Which shines, merely warms not with its powerless rays;
A night-beam Sorrow watcheth to behold,
Distinct, but distant – clear, but oh, how cold!
Alfred Edward Housman
Information technology nods and curtseys and recovers
When the air current blows higher up,
The nettle on the graves of lovers
That hanged themselves for love.
The nettle nods, the current of air blows over,
The man, he does non movement,
The lover of the grave, the lover
That hanged himself for love.
***
Oh, when I was in love with yous,
Then I was clean and brave,
And miles effectually the wonder grew
How well did I acquit.
And now the fancy passes past,
And nothing volition remain,
And miles around they'll say that I
Am quite myself over again.
When I came final to Ludlow
Amidst the moonlight pale,
2 friends kept step abreast me,
Two honest lads and hale.
At present Dick lies long in the churchyard,
And Ned lies long in jail,
And I come up abode to Ludlow
Amidst the moonlight pale.
***
Oh on my breast in days hereafter
Calorie-free the earth should prevarication,
Such weight to deport is now the air,
Then heavy hangs the sky.
Hilaire Belloc
The Big Baboon
The Big Baboon is plant upon
The plains of Cariboo;
He goes about with nil on
(A shocking thing to do.)
But if he dressed respectably
And permit his whiskers grow
How similar this Big Birdie would be
To Mister So-and-So!
Walter de la Mare
The Horseman
I heard a horseman
Ride over the hill;
The moon shone clear,
The night was still;
His captain was silvery,
And pale was he;
And the horse he rode
Was of ivory.
***
Hide and Seek
Hide and seek, says the Wind,
In the shade of the woods;
Hide and seek, says the Moon,
To the hazel buds;
Hibernate and seek, says the Cloud,
Star on to star;
Hide and seek, says the Wave
At the harbour bar;
Hide and seek, says I,
To myself, and stride
Out of the dream of Wake
Into the dream of Sleep.
T. East. Hulme
Autumn
A affect of cold in the Autumn night —
I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a ruby-faced farmer.
I did not cease to speak, merely nodded,
And round near were the wistful stars
With white faces like town children.
***
The embankment
(The fantasia of a fallen gentleman on a cold, bitter night)
In one case, in finesse of fiddles plant I ecstasy,
In a flash of gold heels on the hard pavement.
Now run across I
That warmth'southward the very stuff of verse.
Oh, God, make small-scale
The old star-eaten blanket of the sky,
That I may fold information technology round me and in condolement lie.
Richard Aldington
To Those Who Played for Safety in Life
I besides might take worn starched cuffs,
Have gulped my morning repast in haste,
Have clothed myself in dismal staffs
Which evidence a sober City taste;
I besides might have rocked and craned
In undergrounds for daily news,
And watched my soul grow slowly stained
To heart-class unsightly hues...
I might have earned 10 pounds a week!
Richard Church building
The Last Freedom
The blind homo, when the skylark shakes
Trill over trill from the blueish above,
Stares upward and from darkness wakes
Through sockets eloquent with beloved.
If our defective senses thus
Kindle at glories half-divined,
What of the joy awaiting us
When death brings liberty to the listen?
George Barker
Summer Song II
Soft is the coolied nighttime, and cool
These regions where the dreamers rule,
As Summer, in her rose and robe,
Astride the horses of the globe,
Drags, fighting, from the midnight sky,
The mushroom at whose glance nosotros dice.
Philip Larkin
Pour abroad that youth
That overflows the heart
Into hair and oral fissure;
Have the grave'south part,
Tell the bone'due south truth.
Throw away that youth
That precious stone in the head
That bronze in the breath;
Walk with the dead
For fear of decease.
***
Within the dream you said:
Let usa kiss then,
In this room, in this bed,
Only when all's washed
We must not encounter again.
Hearing this last word,
There was no lambing-night,
No gale-driven bird
Nor frost-encircled root
As cold every bit my heart.
Domicile is so pitiful. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, information technology withers and so,
Having no middle to put aside the theft
And plow again to what information technology started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to exist,
Long fallen wide. Yous can encounter how information technology was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.
Ted Hughes
Kafka
And he is an owl
He is an owl, "Man" tattooed in his armpit
Under the broken fly
(Stunned by the wall of glare, he cruel here)
Nether the cleaved fly of huge shadow that twitches across the flooring.
He is a homo in hopeless feathers.
Brian Patten
A Talk with a Woods
Moving through yous ane evening
when yous offered shelter to
tranquillity things soaked in rain
I saw through your thinning branches
the beginnings of suburbs, and
frightened past the pelting,
gray hares running upright in
distant fields, and quite alone there
thought of zero but my footprints
existence filled, and love, distilled
of people, drifted free, and then
the woods spoke with me.
William Butler Yeats
He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of nighttime and light and the one-half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, take simply my dreams;
I have spread my dreams nether your feet;
Tread softly because yous tread on my dreams.
James Joyce
The twilight turns from amethyst
To deep and deeper blue,
The lamp fills with a stake dark-green glow
The copse of the avenue.
The erstwhile pianoforte plays an air,
Sedate and slow and gay;
She bends upon the yellow keys,
Her head inclines this fashion.
Shy thoughts and grave wide eyes and hands
That wander as they list —
The twilight turns to darker blueish
With lights of amethyst.
***
Simples
O bella bionda,
Sei come up l'onda!
Of absurd sweet dew and radiance balmy
The moon a web of silence weaves
In the still garden where a child
Gathers the uncomplicated salad leaves.
A moondew stars her hanging hair
And moonlight kisses her young brow
And, gathering, she sings an air:
Fair equally the wave is, fair, art yard!
Be mine, I pray, a waxen ear
To shield me from her childish croon
And mine a shielded centre for her
Who gathers simples of the moon.
Walt Whitman
I dream'd in a dream I saw a urban center invincible to the attacks of the
whole of the rest of the earth,
I dream'd that was the new city of Friends,
Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust dearest, it led
the rest,
It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of that urban center,
And in all their looks and words.
Emily Dickinson
Which lead the seasons by,
Needs only to remember
That from you or I,
They may accept the trifle
Termed bloodshed!
To invest beingness with a stately air
Needs only to recollect
That the acorn in that location
Is the egg of forests
For the upper air!
***
If I shouldn't be alive
When the Robins come up,
Requite the one in Red Cravat,
A Memorial crumb.
If I couldn't thank you,
Existence fast asleep,
You will know I'chiliad trying
With my Granite lip!
***
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you lot — Nobody — too?
Then there's a pair of united states of america!
Don't tell! They'd banish us — you lot know!
How dreary — to be — Somebody!
How public — like a Frog —
To tell your proper name — the livelong June —
To an admiring Bog!
***
Heart! We will forget him!
You lot and I - tonight!
Yous may forget the
Warmth he gave -
I volition forget the Calorie-free!
When you have done, pray tell me
That I may direct begin!
Haste! lest while you lot're lagging
I may think him!
This is my letter of the alphabet to the Globe
That never wrote to Me —
The unproblematic News that Nature told —
With tender Majesty
Her Message is committed
To Easily I cannot encounter —
For love of Her — Sugariness — countrymen —
Judge tenderly — of Me
***
If I can stop one Heart from breaking
shall non live in vain
If I tin can ease ane Life the Aching
Or cool one Hurting
Or assistance one fainting Robin
Unto his Nest again
I shall non live in Vain.
***
I never saw a Moor —
I never saw the Ocean —
Yet know I how the Heather looks
And what a Billow be.
I never spoke with God
Nor visited in Sky —
All the same certain am I of the spot
As if the Checks were given —
Carl Sandburg
Limited
I am riding on a limited express, one of the crack trains
of the nation.
Hurtling across the prairie into blue haze and night air get
15 all-steel coaches holding a thousand people.
(All the coaches shall be fleck and rust and all the men and
women laughing in the diners and sleepers shall laissez passer to
ashes.)
I ask a man in the smoker where he is going and he answers:
"Omaha."
***
Prayers of Steel
Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Beat me and hammer me into a crowbar.
Let me pry loose sometime walls.
Let me lift and loosen sometime foundations.
Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Vanquish me and hammer me into a steel fasten.
Drive me into the girders that hold a skyscraper together.
Accept red-hot rivets and fasten me into the central girders.
Permit me be the nifty nail holding a skyscraper through blue
nights into white stars.
Robert Frost
The Pasture
I'g going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll but stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha'n't be gone long. — You come too.
I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. Information technology's so immature,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha'north't be gone long. — You come up as well.
***
Fire and Ice
Some say the earth will end in burn down,
Some say in water ice.
From what I've tasted of want
I hold with those who favor burn.
But if it had to perish twice,
I call back I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also peachy
And would suffice.
Walter Lowenfels
Message from Bert Brecht
And don't call back
art
is that actor over there
talking
to that other one
upstage
He's the third one
you don't see
talking
to that other one
you can't hear
offstage
Langston Hughes
Porter
I must say
Yes, sir,
To you lot all the time.
Yep, sir!
Yes, sir!
All my days
Climbing up a great big mountain
Of yep, sirs!
Rich old white man
Owns the world
Gimme yo' shoes
To smooth
Yes, sir!
Edward Lear
There was an Quondam Man of Dumbree,
Who taught trivial Owls to beverage Tea;
For he said, "To eat mice
Is not proper or nice,"
That amiable Man of Dumbree.
***
There was on Old Man of the Isles,
Whose face was pervaded with smiles;
He sung high dum diddle,
And played on the fiddle,
That amiable Man of the Isles.
Lewis Carroll
There was an eccentric old draper,
Who wore a hat made of brown newspaper,
It went up to a point,
Yet it looked out of articulation,
The cause of which he said was "vapour."
***
There was once a swain of Oporta,
Who daily got shorter and shorter,
The reason he said
Was the hod on his head,
Which was filled with the heaviest mortar.
His sister named Lucy O'Finner,
Grew constantly thinner and thinner,
The reason was plain,
She slept out in the pelting,
And was never immune whatsoever dinner.
John Donne
The Expiration
So, so, break off this last lamenting osculation,
Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away,
Plough one thousand ghost that way, and let me turn this,
And allow our selves benight our happiest day,
Nosotros ask none leave to dearest; nor will we owe
Whatsoever, and so cheap a decease, as saying, Go;
Go; and if that discussion accept not quite kil'd thee,
Ease me with death, by bidding me become also.
Oh, if it have, let my give-and-take work on me,
And a just function on a murderer do.
Except information technology be too late, to impale me so,
Being double expressionless, going, and behest, get.
Maya Angelou
Passing Time
Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk
One paints the beginning
of a certain end.
The other, the cease of a
sure commencement.
William Shakespeare
Sonnet 116. Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Allow me non to the marriage of true minds
Acknowledge impediments, love is not honey
Which alters when it amending finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, information technology is an ever-stock-still marking
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bawl,
Whose worth'southward unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Inside his bending sickle's compass come,
Dear alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
Just bears information technology out even to the edge of doom:
If this be fault and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Edgar Allan Poe
An Acrostic
Elizabeth it is in vain you say
"Love not"—k sayest it in then sugariness a mode:
In vain those words from thee or L. E. 50.
Zantippe's talents had enforced so well:
Ah! if that language from thy heart arise,
Exhale it less gently forth—and veil thine eyes.
Endymion, recollect, when Luna tried
To cure his dearest—was cured of all beside—
His folly—pride—and passion—for he died.
William Blake
Epigram
Yous say their Pictures well Painted exist,
And yet they are Blockheads you all agree,
Give thanks God, I never was sent to School
To be Flogg'd into following the Stile of a Fool.
The Errors of a Wise Man make your Rule
Rather than the Perfections of a Fool.
Eternity
He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
Simply he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sunday rise.
***
All pictures that'south panted with sense and with idea
Are panted past madmen, as certain as a groat;
For the greater the fool is the pencil more blest,
Equally when they are drunk they always pant best.
They never tin can Raphael it, Fuseli information technology, nor Blake it;
If they can't run into an outline, pray how can they make it?
When men will draw outlines begin you to jaw them;
Madmen see outlines and therefore they draw them.
Wystan Hugh Auden
Epitaph on a Tyrant
Perfection, of a kind, was what he was later,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his paw,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the fiddling children died in the streets.
Thomas Stearns Eliot
The Boston Evening Transcript
The readers of the Boston Evening Transcript
Sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn.
When evening quickens faintly in the street,
Wakening the appetites of life in some
And to others bringing the Boston Evening Transcript,
I mountain the steps and ring the bell, turning
Wearily, as one would plow to nod good-goodbye to Rochefoucauld,
If the street were fourth dimension and he at the cease of the street,
And I say, "Cousin Harriet, hither is the Boston Evening Transcript."
Oscar Wilde
Theoretikos
This mighty empire hath but feet of clay:
Of all its ancient chivalry and might
Our little isle is abdicate quite:
Some enemy hath stolen its crown of bay,
And from its hills that voice hath passed away
Which spake of Liberty: O come out of it,
Come out of information technology my Soul, 1000 art non fit
For this vile traffic-business firm, where twenty-four hours past day
Wisdom and reverence are sold at mart,
And the rude people rage with ignorant cries
Confronting an heritage of centuries.
It mars my calm: wherefore in dreams of Art
And loftiest civilization I would stand up apart,
Neither for God, nor for his enemies.
Source: https://md-eksperiment.org/post/20210120-short-poems-in-english
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