Within myself I lose, or win

Within myself I lose, or win

Not in the clamour of the crowded street, Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, But in ourselves are triumph and defeat.   Henry W. Longfellow (1807-82).
In despair is the music still playing?

In despair is the music still playing?

O God, can a man find you when he lies with his face downwards And his nose in the rubble that was his achievement? Is the music playing behind the door of despair?   Patrick Kavanagh (1904-67).  
God’s latecomers

God’s latecomers

‘Like me,’ she said to them, ‘you were late in coming. The shepherds were here long before; even the cattle. They had joined the chorus of angels before you were on your way….’ ‘How laboriously you came, taking sights and calculating, whereas the shepherds had run...
Time passes, waiting

Time passes, waiting

… Young I pronounced you. Older I still do, but seldomer now, leaning far out over an immense depth, letting your name go and waiting, somewhere between faith and doubt for the echoes of its arrival.   R.S. Thomas (1913-2000), Frequencies,...
Stripped in my winter

Stripped in my winter

The summer leaves fall from the trees. The branches stark and naked against a grey sky, Yet one day the sap will rise again. You, Lord, will send the Spirit Rushing through our veins, And there will be flowers and fruit And shade on a summer’s day.   Ian Bunting...