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Samuel Cobb
If you don't read good books, you will read bad ones.-C.S. Lewis
More than those who watch for the morning--- Yes, more than those who watch for the morning.
Psalm 130
There is a kind of happiness and wonder that makes you serious.
CS Lewis, The Last Battle
This blog is for anyone who acknowledges the dilemma of being human. I write and “cover” stuff I love because I know there is someone in this world who understands them (in all its beauty and horror).
Psalm 130
There is a kind of happiness and wonder that makes you serious.
CS Lewis, The Last Battle
This blog is for anyone who acknowledges the dilemma of being human. I write and “cover” stuff I love because I know there is someone in this world who understands them (in all its beauty and horror).
Fellow Filipino Christian Bloggers
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About Me
- Sam
- looks like an electrified poodle and has a weird eclectic tastes that is why he is inscrutable though jumps up and down on the bed when he get ineffable thoughts. NOTE: My hair is not slicked and austere but I'm more than a hair cut.
The Task and Other Poems
There is a pleasure in poetic pains
Which only poets know
William Cowper
Which only poets know
William Cowper
A CAUTION TO POETS
What poets feel not, when they make,
A pleasure in creating,
The world, in _its_ turn, will not take
Pleasure in contemplating.
Matthew Arnold
A pleasure in creating,
The world, in _its_ turn, will not take
Pleasure in contemplating.
Matthew Arnold
HUMAN LIFE
What mortal, when he saw,
Life's voyage done, his heavenly Friend,
Could ever yet dare tell him fearlessly:
"I have kept uninfringed my nature's law°;
The inly-written chart° thou gavest me,
To guide me, I have steer'd by to the end"?
Ah! let us make no claim,
On life's incognisable° sea,
To too exact a steering of our way;
Let us not fret and fear to miss our aim,
If some fair coast have lured us to make stay,
Or some friend hail'd us to keep company.
Ay! we would each fain drive
At random, and not steer by rule.
Weakness! and worse, weakness bestow'd in vain
Winds from our side the unsuiting consort rive,
We rush by coasts where we had life remain;
Man cannot, though he would, live chance's fool.
No! as the foaming swath
Of torn-up water, on the main,
Falls heavily away with long-drawn roar
On either side the black deep-furrow'd path
Cut by an onward-labouring vessel's prore,°
And never touches the ship-side again;
Even so we leave behind,
As, charter'd by some unknown Powers
We stem° across the sea of life by night
The joys which were not for our use design'd;--
The friends to whom we had no natural right,
The homes that were not destined to be ours.
Matthew Arnold
Life's voyage done, his heavenly Friend,
Could ever yet dare tell him fearlessly:
"I have kept uninfringed my nature's law°;
The inly-written chart° thou gavest me,
To guide me, I have steer'd by to the end"?
Ah! let us make no claim,
On life's incognisable° sea,
To too exact a steering of our way;
Let us not fret and fear to miss our aim,
If some fair coast have lured us to make stay,
Or some friend hail'd us to keep company.
Ay! we would each fain drive
At random, and not steer by rule.
Weakness! and worse, weakness bestow'd in vain
Winds from our side the unsuiting consort rive,
We rush by coasts where we had life remain;
Man cannot, though he would, live chance's fool.
No! as the foaming swath
Of torn-up water, on the main,
Falls heavily away with long-drawn roar
On either side the black deep-furrow'd path
Cut by an onward-labouring vessel's prore,°
And never touches the ship-side again;
Even so we leave behind,
As, charter'd by some unknown Powers
We stem° across the sea of life by night
The joys which were not for our use design'd;--
The friends to whom we had no natural right,
The homes that were not destined to be ours.
Matthew Arnold
REFLECTION
August 2, 1798.
Why should we think the years of life
Will pass serenely by,
When, for a day, the Sun himself
Ne'er sees a cloudless sky!
And, unassuming as she moves,
The meek-eyed Queen of night,
Meets wand'ring vapours in her path
To dim her paler light!
Then why should we in vain repine
At man's uncertain lot,
That cares will equally assail
The palace and the cot?
For Heaven ordains this chequer'd scene
Our mortal pow'rs t' employ;
That we might know, compare, select,
Be grateful, and enjoy.
[For the last verse I am indebted to the pen of a Friend.]
* * * * *
MATILDA BETHAM
Why should we think the years of life
Will pass serenely by,
When, for a day, the Sun himself
Ne'er sees a cloudless sky!
And, unassuming as she moves,
The meek-eyed Queen of night,
Meets wand'ring vapours in her path
To dim her paler light!
Then why should we in vain repine
At man's uncertain lot,
That cares will equally assail
The palace and the cot?
For Heaven ordains this chequer'd scene
Our mortal pow'rs t' employ;
That we might know, compare, select,
Be grateful, and enjoy.
[For the last verse I am indebted to the pen of a Friend.]
* * * * *
MATILDA BETHAM
A POISON TREE
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
and he knew that it was mine,--
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
William Blake
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
and he knew that it was mine,--
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
William Blake
THE GOOD-MORROW
And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear ;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone ;
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown ;
Let us possess one world ; each hath one, and is one.
JOHN DONNE
Which watch not one another out of fear ;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone ;
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown ;
Let us possess one world ; each hath one, and is one.
JOHN DONNE
Poems On Several Occasions
But Man, that offspring of corrupting Clay,
Subject to Err, and Subject to Decay:
In Hopes, Desires, Will, Power, a numerous Train,
Uncertain, Fickle, Impotent and Vain:
Must tire the Heav'nly Muse with endless Prayer,
And call the smiling Angels to his care.
Samuel Cobb
IN A HEAVY HOUR
Be glad when danger presses
Each power your soul possesses!
In greater strain
Your strength shall gain,
Till greater vict'ry blesses!
Supports may break in pieces,
Your friends may have caprices,
But you shall see,
The end will be,
Your need of crutches ceases.
--'T is clear,
Whom God makes lonely,
To him He comes more near.
Bjornstjerne Bjornson
Each power your soul possesses!
In greater strain
Your strength shall gain,
Till greater vict'ry blesses!
Supports may break in pieces,
Your friends may have caprices,
But you shall see,
The end will be,
Your need of crutches ceases.
--'T is clear,
Whom God makes lonely,
To him He comes more near.
Bjornstjerne Bjornson
Spooks
Last night I dreamed that I was come again
Unto the house where my beloved dwells
After long years of wandering and pain.
And I stood out beneath the drenching rain
And all the street was bare, and black with night,
But in my true love's house was warmth and light.
Yet I could not draw near nor enter in,
And long I wondered if some secret sin
Or old, unhappy anger held me fast;
Till suddenly it came into my head
That I was killed long since and lying dead-
Only a homeless wraith that way had passed.
So thus I found my true love's house again
And stood unseen amid the winter night
And the lamp burned within, a rosy light,
And the wet street was shining in the rain.
C. S. Lewis, SPIRITS IN BONDAGE
Unto the house where my beloved dwells
After long years of wandering and pain.
And I stood out beneath the drenching rain
And all the street was bare, and black with night,
But in my true love's house was warmth and light.
Yet I could not draw near nor enter in,
And long I wondered if some secret sin
Or old, unhappy anger held me fast;
Till suddenly it came into my head
That I was killed long since and lying dead-
Only a homeless wraith that way had passed.
So thus I found my true love's house again
And stood unseen amid the winter night
And the lamp burned within, a rosy light,
And the wet street was shining in the rain.
C. S. Lewis, SPIRITS IN BONDAGE
What's On My Sleek Bookshelf
If you don't read good books, you will read bad ones.-C.S. Lewis
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