The Christ Candle First (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Higher, first, the Christ candle first lit and placed on the altar burning, higher than the rest the saint, my ...
Higher, first, the Christ candle first lit and placed on the altar burning, higher than the rest the saint, my ...
There before, those among us sitting with the saints in the sanctuary, this community of faith being with the saints, ...
Suddenly, vivid bright light illuminating the thinning clouds milky sky, radiating light burning through the overcast the fog of the ...
Like a deep rich fog so is the grace of God ever present in our lives touching us, caressing us ...
The falling sun bathing the island falling down, toward the horizon, lighting beautiful rose bloom streaming through the rose skin, ...
The mornings burst into my room sharing the sunrise the waking of the world the cacophony of day shining into ...
In my trade, you never are to ask these kinds of questions, questions where you don't know the answer, those ...
Candles of Hope, of Faith, of Joy burning bright, waiting for tomorrow with the candle of Peace only a few ...
All is quiet in the house, girls asleep, slowing down the only sound my fingers clicking these words the purr ...
Crisp hard brown sturdy oak leaves glistened in the small crisp pools after this morning's rain, late fall puddles harvest ...
In that holy place, on that Oh Holy Night we rose as a family, to the chancel rail into the ...
Not coffeecake though they evoke memories too no it was a tea ring, cinnamon, raisins, white icing and a maraschino ...
1 Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And ...
SHE stood against the kitchen sink, and looked Over the sink out through a dusty window At weeds the water ...
The barber has accidentally taken off an ear. It lies like something newborn on the floor in a nest of ...
I THE WINTER evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o'clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days. ...
When we stand on the tops of Things -- And like the Trees, look down -- The smoke all cleared ...
I like the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall ...
Old King Cole Was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe ...
Velvet soft the night-star glowed Over the untrodden road, Through the giant glades of yew ...
Velvet soft the night-star glowed Over the untrodden road, Through the giant glades of yew ...
In most self-portraits it is the face that dominates: Cezanne is a pair of eyes swimming in brushstrokes, Van Gogh ...
(For Donald Hall) Have you heard about the boy who walked by The black water? I won't say much more. ...
Young Mary, loitering once her garden way, Felt a warm splendour grow in the April day, As wine that blushes ...
Lighting one candle with another candle-- spring evening. (Yosa Buson)
Henry, edged, decidedly, made up stories lighting the past of Henry, of his glorious present, and his hoaries, all the ...
Reubens, river of forgetfulness, garden of sloth, Pillow of wet flesh that one cannot love, But where life throngs and ...
Well,-it was two days after my husband died- Two days! And the earth still raw above him. And I was ...
I The girl in the room beneath Before going to bed Strums on a mandolin The three simple tunes she ...
O Rose! who dares to name thee? No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet; But pale, and hard, and ...
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