This page is for you to enjoy the biblical poetry of celebrities such as C. S. Lewis, T. S. Eliot and John milton...If you want to recommend those kind of biblical poetry, please let me know. Thank you!

Peter K. Y. Chang's Invitation

You are invited to enjoy the poetry of celebrity

Our featured poet is C.S. Lewis


DIVINE JUSTICE

God in His mercy made
The fixed pains of Hell.
That misery might be stayed,
God in His mercy made
Eternal bounds and bade
Its waves no further swell.
God in His mercy made
The fixed pains of Hell.


A CONFESSION

I am so coarse, the things the poets see

Are obstinately invisible to me.
For twenty years I've stared my level best
To see if evening -- any evening --would suggest
A patient etherized upon a table;
In vain. I simply wasn't table
To me each evening looked far more
Like the departure from a silent, yet a crowded, shore
Of a ship whose freight was everything, leaving behind
Gracefully, finally, without farewells, marooned mankind.

Red dawn behind a hedgerow in the east

Never, for me, resembled in the least
A chilblain on a cocktial-shaker's nose:
Waterfalls don't remaind me of torn underclothes,
Nor glaciers of tin-cans. I've never known
The moon look like a hump-backed crone--
Rather, a prodigy, even now
Not naturalized, a riddle glaring from the Cyclops' brow
Of the cold world, reminding me on what a place
I crawl and cling, a planet with no bulwarks, out in space.
Never the white sun of wintriest day
Struck me as un crachat d'estaminet.(What?)
I'm like that odd man Wordsworth knew, to whom
A primrose was a yellow primrose, one whose doom
Keeps him forever in the list of dunces,
Compelled to live on stock responses,
Making the poor best that I can
Of dull things...peacocks, honey, the Great Wall, Aldebaran,
Silver weirs, new-cut grass, wave on the beach, hard gem,
The shapes of horse and woman, Athens, Troy, Jerusalem.

HERMIONE IN THE HOUSE OF PAULINA

How soft it rains, how nourishingly soft and green
Has grown the dark humility of this low house
Where sunrise never enters, where I have not seen
The moon by night nor heard the footfall of a mouse,
Nor looked on any face but yours
Nor changed my posture in my place of rest
For fifteen years ---oh how this quiet cures
My pain and sucks the burning from my breast

It sucked out all the poison of my will and drew
All hot rebellion from me, all desire to break
The silence you commanded me…. Nothing to do,
Only to be; to hear no more
Cock-crowing duty calling me to rise,
But slowly thus to ripen laid in store
In this dim nursery near your watching eyes.

Pardon, great spirit, whose tall shape like a golden tower
Stands over me or seems upon my slow wings to move,
Colouring with life my paleness, with returning power,
By sober ministrations of severest love;
Pardon, that when you brought me here;
Still drowned in bitter passion, drugged with life,
I did not know … pardon, I thought you were
Paulina, old Antigonus, young wife.



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