Monday, July 10, 2006
i borrowed a book from the librbary 2 weeks ago and i wanted to blog about it. only today is suitable is exams are over!! yea!
the book that i've borrowed is A Choice of Christina Rossetti's Verse. inside was an introduction by Elizabeth Jennings and Christina's peoms. i want to share it because i felt that i could connect with her in her life. the way she viewed it and the way she wrote her poems. she's an Anglo-Catholic, however, her it seems to me that she's a christian (protestant). if i were to write poems, i would write like her. (: i hope the poem speaks to you.
here are some of the poems that she wrote:
MemoryII nursed it in my bosom while it lived,
I hid it in my heart when it was dead;
In joy I sat alone, even so i grieved
Alone and nothing said.
I shut the door to face the naked truth,
I stood alone- I faced the truth alone,
Stripped bare of self-regard or forms or ruth
Till first and last were shown.
I took the perfect balances and weighed;
No shaking of my hand disturbed the poise;
Weighed, found it wanting: not a word I said,
But silent made my choice.
None know the choice I made; I make it still.
None know the choice I made and broke my heart,
Breaking mine idol: I have braced my will
Once, chosen for once my part.
I broke it at a blow, I laid it cold,
Crushed in my deep heart where it used to live.
My heart dies inch by inch; the time grows old,
Grows old in which I grieve.
III have a roon whereinto no one enters
Save I myself alone:
There sits a blessed memory on a throne,
There my life centres.
While Winter comes and goes- oh tedious comer!-
And while it's nip-wind blows;
While bloom the bloodless lily and warm rose
Of lavish summer.
If any should force entrance he might see there
One buried yet not dead,
Before whose face I no more bow my head
Or bend my knee there;
But often in my worn life's autumn weather
I watch there with clear eyes,
And think how it will be in Paradise
When we're together.
Good FridayAm I a stone and not a sheep
That i can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy Cross,
To number drop by drop Thy blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?
Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;
Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon-
I, only I
Yet give not o'er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.
What would i give?What would I give for a heart of flesh to warm me through,
Instead of this heart of stone ice-cold whatever I do;
Hard and cold and small, of all hearts the worst of all.
What would I give for words, if only words would come;
But now in its misery my spirit has fallen dumb:
Oh, merry friends, go your way, I have never a word to say.
What would I give for tears, not smiles but scalding tears,
To wash the black mark clean, and to thaw the frost of years,
To wash the stain ingrain and to make me clean again.
Despised and RejectedMy sun has sat, I dwell
In darkness as a dead man out of sight;
And none remains, not one, that I should tell
To him mine evil plight
This bitter night
I will make fast my door
That hollow friends may trouble me no more.
'Friend, open to Me.' - Who is this that calls?
Nay, I am deaf as are my walls:
Cease crying, for I will not hear
Thy cry of hope or fear
Others were dear,
Others forsook me: what are thou indeed
That I should heed
Thy lamentable need?
Hungry should feed
Or stranger lodge thee here?
'Friend, My Feet bleed.
Open thy door to Me and comfort Me.'
I will not open, trouble me no more.
Go on thy way footsore, I will not rise and open unto thee.
'Then is it nothing to Thee? Open, see
Who stands to plead to thee.
Open, lest I should pass thee by, and thou
One day entreat My Face
And howl for grace,
And I be deaf as thou art now.
Open to Me.'
Then I cried out upon him: Cease,
Leave me in peace
Fear not that I should crave
Aught thou mayst have.
Leave me in peace, yea trouble me no more,
Lest I arise and chase thee from my door.
What shall I not be let
Alone, that thou dost vex me yet?
But all night long that voice spake urgently:
'Open to Me.'
Still harping in mine ears:
'Rise, let Me in.'
Pleading with tears:
'Open to Me that I may come to thee.'
While the dew dropped, while the dark hours were cold:
'My Feet bleed, see My Face,
See My hands bleed that bring thee grace,
My heart doth bleed for Thee,
Open to Me.'
So till the break of day:
Then died away
That voice, in silence as of sorrow;
Then footsteps echoing like a sigh
Passed me by,
Lingering footsteps slow to pass.
On the morrow
I saw upon the grass
Each footprint marked in blood, and on my door
The mark of blood for evermore.
the salvation of Christ and it's wonder. (: the way she expresses how her life being messed up, how she accepted the Lord and the gratefulness that she had towards the Lord. however, the Lord is being despised and rejected by us. last but not least,
The Lowest Place, shows of her humility and unworthiness as a sinner though i do not agree on the part where it there's a lowest place in heaven because heaven deos not have such ranking of places.
The Lowest PlaceGive me the lowest place: not that I dare
Ask for that lowest place, but Thou hast died
That I might live and share
Thy glory by Thy side.
Give me the lowest place: or if for me
That lowest place too high, make one more low
Where I may sit and see
My God and love Thee so.
there are many other meaningful and nice poems as well, but if i were to put it all up. u will sleep. haha. u can check out her other poems on the net though. (:
7/10/2006 11:19:00 PM
