A Collection of Short Poems

The Folly of the Free

Against knav­ish pride

I’ve walked this path unaided,
Or so it seemed at first.
I vainly sought the world, and paid
For my igno­ble thirst,
And when the hours drained away,
And lust had run its course,
I searched beyond the rivers run,
To You, my Lord, its Source.

Three Car­di­nal Verses

Ded­i­cated to the Princes of Christ’s Church

A sil­ver brow, a twin­kling eye,
A scar­let skull­cap too,
And hid­den thus beneath his
Gown are socks of crimson hue.

Across his breast a pen­dant fixed,
The bro­ken body on a tree,
Against his folds of watered-​silk,
The head of Him who set us free.

I saw him there, so far away,
Bedecked in bloody cope,
A man to whom I bent my knee,
A sym­bol of our hope.

Thou Art My Lord

Ded­i­cated to Mr Jef­frey A. Weiss

Thou art my Lord, my God, my Sov­er­eign true,
My King of Kings, my Sav­iour – Who,
By His blood which art Divine,
Hath plucked me from the whither’d vine,

Through Thy mercy a Seed of Life was sown,
Mad’st Flesh of Flesh and Bone of Bone.

Mine heart within my breast was chilled,
By Thy Fire of Love my soul was filled.

Image of God – with Gift of Grace alone,
The Sapling of my Joy hath grown.

Most High, Who may’st not deceive,
But lead’st, and bless­est, and grant’st reprieve.

Thou art my Lord, this only do I know.
Benedica­mus Domino.

The Fam­ily

Ded­i­cated to my Family

The fam­ily is like a book–
The chil­dren are the leaves,
The par­ents are the cov­ers
That pro­tect­ing beauty gives.

At first the pages of the book
Are blank and purely fair,
But time soon writeth mem­o­ries
And painteth pic­tures there.

Love is the lit­tle golden clasp
That bindeth up the trust:
Oh, break it not, lest all the leaves
Should scat­ter and be lost!

The Teacher’s Art

Ded­i­cated to Mlle. Cherie Armao Gabreski

The sculp­tor may chisel cold mar­ble
With genius sur­pass­ingly rare;
The artist may fea­ture his can­vas
With beauty exquis­itely fair.

But what are these arts to teach­ing
That illu­mines the depths of the soul,
That arouses the mind into action,
That directs us to God’s high­est goal?

Strive on in your noble pro­fes­sion,
You teach­ers of chil­dren and youth;
May the Mas­ter of Nazareth guide you
In teach­ing His Way and His Truth.