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Poetry

The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods, against a stormy sky, Their giant branches tost; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and water o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild...
Gratitude for Those Who Are Gone
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For all that we are often lost amid the loneliness, hostage to the gravity and grief that cause us to fall, there is always that sudden and unexpected upsurge of grace and glory to lift us high above the dark and sullen weight of so many dead...

From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring— From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone— And...
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The transcendent ‘overcoming’ or reconciliation of the Fall of Man—that symbol of the cause of the disorder that we would wish re-ordered, of the return to the garden—is what great poetry graciously asks of us... “An intermediate...
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All those who find it hard to deal With modern life and get perplexed With innovation technological; who feel Their memory receding with their hairline and will get quite vexed If they can’t get a word, can’t find their specs; With crinkled faces and with...
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We were born a light within pain Reckoned in spasms of a tender night A knowledge Child from infinite origin Born bearing what came before Us - So birth found Us quiet, like peace; And twenty alive, like blood. To the bright sun I leapt a...
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The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never anymore the dead. The verses in it say and say: "The ones who living come today To read the stones...

Today’s offering in our Timeless Essay series affords readers the opportunity to join Titus Techera as he reflects on the meaning of G.K. Chesterton's "A Ballade of Suicide." —W. Winston Elliott III, Publisher
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Endeavour to be like the Morning Sun Now sailing upon the circadian tide Who grants warmth to the world when it’s earned none, Without a sound and without hint of pride, Who lights the land as unversed lovers love, Demanding nothing, save to give yet...

Fill with mingled cream and amber, I will drain that glass again. Such hilarious visions clamber Through the chamber of my brain — Quaintest thoughts — queerest fancies Come to life and fade away; What care I how time advances? I am drinking ale today.
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For many years I taught a course in Twentieth-Century Literature to college seniors. In truth it was actually a course in early to mid-twentieth-century literature because I didn’t teach any text published within the previous forty to...
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She got an Oscar for her role In Downton Abbey; and she played the Queen In that biopic with Sir Andrew Foale— You know the one I mean— He’s in that ad for Windolene; Her acting gave us so much pleasure: Nothing too horrid or obscene; They...
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Analytic philosophy is limited in its scope regarding the knowledge of God. Richard Swinburne, a British contemporary philosopher influential for his arguments for the existence of God, admits the limitations of his field in his lecture, “What We...
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She’s earnest for equality And vigilant for women’s rights; She frowns on all frivolity, Of justice she is keen to scale the heights, And to this end she sat up nights And studied law—you get the gist— And now she’s qualified in slights. They say she is...