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Sunday, April 4, 2021

Easter Poetry - National Poetry Month

 Post by Doris McCraw writing as Angela Raines

Photo property of the author

This post is composed of Easter Poems by poets from the 1800s. Since today is Easter and April is National Poetry Month, it seemed appropriate to combine the two. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I love poetry. The first is by Oscar Wilde.

The silver trumpets rang across the Dome:

The people knelt upon the ground with awe:

And borne upon the necks of men I saw,

Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.

Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,

And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,

Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:

In splendor and in light the Pope passed home.

My heart stole back across wide wastes of years

To One who wandered by a lonely sea,

And sought in vain for any place of rest:

"Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,

I, only I, must wander wearily,

And bruise My feet, and drink wine salt with tears."

Oscar Wilde
Photo property of the author

This second poem is by one of my favorite eighteenth-century female poets after Helen, Christine Rosetti.
There is nothing more that they can do
For all their rage and boast;
Caiaphas with his blaspheming crew,
Herod with his host,

Pontius Pilate in his Judgement-hall
Judging their Judge and his,
Or he who led them all and passed them all,
Arch-Judas with his kiss.

The sepulchre made sure with ponderous Stone,
Seal that same stone, O Priest;
It may be thou shalt block the holy One
From rising in the east:

Set a watch about the sepulchre
To watch on pain of death;
They must hold fast the stone if One should stir
And shake it from beneath.

God Almighty, He can break a seal
And roll away a Stone,
Can grind the proud in dust who would not kneel,
And crush the mighty one.

There is nothing more that they can do
For all their passionate care,
Those who sit in dust, the blessed few,
And weep and rend their hair:

Peter, Thomas, Mary Magdalene,
The Virgin unreproved,
Joseph, with Nicodemus, foremost men,
And John the Well-beloved,

Bring your finest linen and your spice,
Swathe the sacred Dead,
Bind with careful hands and piteous eyes
The napkin round His head;

Lay Him in the garden-rock to rest;
Rest you the Sabbath length:
The Sun that went down crimson in the west
Shall rise renewed in strength.

God Almighty shall give joy for pain,
Shall comfort him who grieves:
Lo! He with joy shall doubtless come again,
And with Him bring His sheaves.

Christina Georgina Rossetti 

I wish everyone has a wonderful Spring and Easter. Until next month, keep reading and writing. 

Doris Gardner-McCraw -
Author, Speaker, Historian-specializing in
Colorado and Women's History
Angela Raines - author: Telling Stories Where Love & History Meet


  1. Thank you for sharing these. Bother very different takes on the same inspiration. Happy Easter.

    1. Lol. That should have been 'both'. Darned autocarrot.

    2. I agree with your feeling about the 'autocarrot'.

      I believe that the telling of a 'story' via a poem is where the magic is. The image the author offers is like the observers of an incident, their view is always a bit different. I'm glad you share some of my appreciation on the poetry form. Doris

  2. Those are just beautiful and Have a wonderful Easter day! peggy clayton

    1. Thank you, Peggy. I love poetry and just had to share. Doris

  3. I love Oscar Wilde. His stories, like his poetry, speak to the loneliness and heartache that he experienced in his life. Being gay was considered a crime in England and Oscar spent time in jail because of it. Though he was flamboyant and witty, there was always that deep down sadness there. Anyway, I'm glad you brought him to light in this post.
    I liked the poem by Rosetti. It's the first time I've read one of her works.
    This was a lovely post. I hope you're having a wonderful Easter,

    1. Wilde was so talented and most remember him for his wit, but like you say, he was so much more.

      Rosetti has been a favorite since I was in college. I do love most of her work.

      They day was lovely. I was able to visit a friend in assistd living for the first time in months. We had a great time. Thank you for asking. Doris

  4. Doris,

    Springtime and poetry are a beautiful combination.

    1. They really are. Even if I read it all year long they just seem richer as the days get longer. Doris

  5. I would be poetry forms in your head as you take your daily walks amongst nature and take your beautiful photographs, two of which are so beautiful here. Isn't it amazing how with a few strokes of the pen, that a poem can create a picture or feeling in one's mind. The language in these poems depict the era in which they were written but are beautiful nevertheless. I love poetry and have since high school lit class.

    1. I agree, Elizabeth, poerty is the meter of our steps through life. I also thank you for the kind words about the photos. One is from a canyon nearby and the other is right outside my front door. Doris

  6. Heartfelt poems, Doris. Poetry is so apt at seizing images and feelings. Beautiful post

    1. Thank you, Lindsay. Poetry is the economy of words that tell the story and paint an image with just a few brushstrokes. I love it, and work to master it myself. (Not quite there yes, but ...) Doris

  7. Lovely post. What beautiful poetry.