Tag: Poetry

The House of Christmas

There fared a mother driven forthOut of an inn to roam;In the place where she was homelessAll men are at home.The crazy stable close at hand,With shaking timber and shifting

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In the Bleak Midwinter

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,In the bleak midwinter, long ago. Our

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In Honor of Our Lady on Her Feast Day

The Virgin Mother! whose virgin bosom was uncrostWith the least shade of thought to sin allied.Woman! above all women glorified,Our tainted nature’s solitary boast;Purer than foam on central ocean tost;Brighter

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Moist with one drop of thy blood, my dry soulShall (though she now be in extreme degreeToo stony hard, and yet too fleshly,) beFreed by that drop, from being starved,

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