iron acres images

Fallen Stars

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 14:02:00 +0000

God's Grandeur

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;            5
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;            10
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89)

Peace

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 12:00:00 +0000

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-8 (NIV)

Rain

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Wed, 19 May 2010 05:29:00 +0000

"Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Ballad of Trees and the Master

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 18:17:00 +0000

A Ballad of Trees and the Master
by Sidney Lanier

INTO the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him;

The little gray leaves were kind to Him
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him
When into the woods He came.

Out of the woods my Master went,
And He was well content. Out of the woods my Master came,
Content with death and shame.
When Death and Shame would woo Him last,
From under the trees they drew Him last:
’T was on a tree they slew Him—last, When out of the woods He came.

by Sidney Lanier

Light Traveler

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 19:46:00 +0000

"Whenever a snowflake leaves the sky,
It turns and turns to say “Good-by!
Good-by, dear clouds, so cool and gray!”
Then lightly travels on its way." Mary Mapes Dodge

Morning Has Broken

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 08:50:00 +0000

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the One Light Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise for the morning
God's recreation of the new day--Eleanor Farjeon

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 22:00:00 +0000

"Prayer is the soul s sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed,— The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast." James Montgomery

Green

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 03:02:00 +0000

Hay, now!

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 04:03:00 +0000

...this is the steeple

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 02:08:00 +0000

Orange and White

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 06:56:00 +0000

like a pleasant thought

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 03:44:00 +0000

"We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted."

William Wordsworth, To a Daisy

The moon ascending

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 04:01:00 +0000

"Lo! the moon ascending!
Up from the East, the silvery round moon;
Beautiful over the house-tops, ghastly, phantom moon;
Immense and silent moon." Walt Whitman

To a butterfly

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 04:01:00 +0000

To a Butterfly by William Wordsworth

          I've watched you now a full half-hour;
          Self-poised upon that yellow flower
          And, little Butterfly! indeed
          I know not if you sleep or feed.
          How motionless!--not frozen seas
          More motionless! and then
          What joy awaits you, when the breeze
          Hath found you out among the trees,
          And calls you forth again!

          This plot of orchard-ground is ours;

          My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
          Here rest your wings when they are weary;
          Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
          Come often to us, fear no wrong;
          Sit near us on the bough!
          We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
          And summer days, when we were young;
          Sweet childish days, that were as long
          As twenty days are now.

To all always open

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 04:01:00 +0000

"To thee only God granted
A heart ever new:
To all always open;
To all always true." Matthew Arnold

The Way of the Wind

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 05:46:00 +0000

"The way of the Wind is a strange, wild way." Ingram Crockett

A Rose to the Living

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 17:35:00 +0000

"A rose to the living is more
Than sumptuous wreaths to the dead;
In filling love’s infinite store,
A rose to the living is more,
If graciously given before
The hungering spirit is fled,—

A rose to the living is more
Than sumptuous wreaths to the dead." Nixon Waterman

Dancing Days

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 15:01:00 +0000

"For you and I are past our dancing days." Romeo and Juliet, Act i Scene 5, William Shakespeare

He that has patience...

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 09:17:00 +0000

(Agave Americana, known commonly as the Century Plant.)

"He that has patience may compass anything." François Rabelais

What is there hid in the heart of a rose?

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 17:45:00 +0000

Song by Alfred Noyes

From ‘The Forest of Wild Thyme’

WHAT is there hid in the heart of a rose,

Mother-mine?

Ah, who knows, who knows, who knows?

A man that died on a lonely hill

May tell you, perhaps, but none other will,

Little child.

What does it take to make a rose,

Mother-mine?

The God that died to make it knows

It takes the world’s eternal wars,

It takes the moon and all the stars,

It takes the might of heaven and hell

And the everlasting Love as well,

Little child.

Wild Beauty

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 05:37:00 +0000

Temples

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 13:21:00 +0000

"The groves were God’s first temples." William Cullen Bryant

The Plow

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 14:40:00 +0000

Ye rigid Plowmen! Bear in mind
Your labor is for future hours.
Advance! spare not! nor look behind!
Plow deep and straight with all your powers!

Richard Henry Horne, The Plow

God's Promises

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 04:01:00 +0000

“Let God's promises shine on your problems.” Corrie Ten Boom

Wings

noreply@blogger.com (JAS--) — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 18:15:00 +0000