Sacred Poetry
And a mini collection to get you started.
I would first like to say thank you and welcome to the surge of new subscribers to my little Catholic corner of substack! It is a true pleasure to make your acquaintance and to have you here in a community of like minded men looking to grow spiritually, mentally and physically. What I can promise you are words. Lots of words. Such words are aimed at the ascension of the heart in order to Retvrn to Tradition, Revive society and Restore Authentic Masculinity.
We have a lot of work to do. Let's get started.Poetry. We hear less and less of this all but lost art form as we steep deeper into modernity. Writing poetry is either considered a child’s instruction of the haiku or that of the eccentric intellectual. In public life, man is not readily exposed to it.
But if we wind back the clock, we can realize that poetry, specifically sacred poetry was a pillar in the artistic expression of societies. Poets, though perhaps poor, were at the very least influential people in the public square. In a world without social media and the evening news, poets were once the movers of thought just as much as any other types of literature. Writing poetry, often the mark of an educated man, was considered a masculine and respectable art.
The Catholic Church has used all forms of art to express the truth and beauty of Christ to the masses. Poetry has not been left by the way side. The Liturgy itself is full of it in an attempt to explain the unexplainable as we try to grasp the unfathomable but very real reality of our being. In fact, I assert that man cannot understand Catholic art at all without at least a loose grasp of poetic language. Within the Old Testament, the impact of poetry on the mind and soul is realized in the Psalms of King David - verses crying out to God.
In history, sacred poetry was lived in Christian culture. It was taught in monasteries and schools across Christendom for centuries. Poetry is created to speak to man’s soul. Sacred poetry, orienting its words and meanings towards God can be influenced by the Holy Spirit, softening the most hardened of hearts.
“Late have I loved you, beauty so ancient and so new: late have I loved you. And see, you were within and I was in the external world and sought you there, and in my unlovely state I plunged into those lovely created things which you made. You were with me, and I was not with you. The lovely things kept me far from you, though if they did not have their existence in you, they had no existence at all. You called and cried out loud and shattered my deafness. You were radiant and resplendent, you put to flight my blindness. You were fragrant, and I drew in my breath and now pant after you. I tasted you, and I feel but hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I am set on fire to attain the peace which is yours.”
― St. Augustine of Hippo, Confessions
The beauty and truth of the Catholic Faith has fostered many poets and in this piece, I will share some lesser known ones with you, along with a poem by each. Before reading the poetry below, I want to preface it with the fact that the world, as much as we would like it to be, is not a bed of roses. The poetry beneath these lines are not to make you feel comfortable. They are to make you feel.
Siegfried Sassoon
Siegfried was born in 1886 to a wealthy family in England. He began writing poetry as a young boy. Amid the outbreak of WWI, Sassoon volunteered for the British Army, eventually earning the nickname “Mad Jack” due to his brave acts of valor. The horrors of the war stuck with the men who fought in it and Siegfried was no different. The war left him depressed, along with his writing. There are some bright spots in these years as he converted to Catholicism later in life. Much of his poetry is a mystery to this day, but the one below is a dark one, mocking the politicians of the day that sent many, many men to their deaths.
Memorial Tablet
Squire nagged and bullied till I went to fight,
(Under Lord Derby’s Scheme). I died in hell-
(They called it Passchendaele). My wound was slight,
And I was hobbling back; and then a shell
Burst slick upon the duck-boards: so I fell
Into the bottomless mud, and lost the light. At sermon-time, while Squire is in his pew,
He gives my gilded name a thoughtful stare:
For, though low down upon the list, I’m there;
‘In proud and glorious memory’ … that’s my due.
Two bleeding years I fought in France, for Squire:
I suffered anguish that he’s never guessed.
Once I came home on leave: and then went west…
What greater glory could a man desire?
Joseph Mary Plunkett
JMP was executed by firing squad on May 4, 1916 at the age of 28. He was known as an Irish Revolutionary, part of the Easter Rising, but what he left behind is poetry that stirs the soul.
I see his blood upon the rose
I see his blood upon the rose
And in the stars the glory of his eyes,
His body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.I see his face in every flower;
The thunder and the singing of the birds
Are but his voice—and carven by his power
Rocks are his written words.All pathways by his feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
His cross is every tree.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
Hopkins was also a convert to Catholicism. During his life, he was unknown for his poetry, but his name lives on due to his unique writing style. Hopkins studied classic literature in College and soon after, converted to the Catholic faith after being consulted by the most famous convert of the time - John Henry Newman! A short time after, Hopkins became a priest.
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;
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;
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
Besides the lesser knows ones above, (curated perfectly I might add by the Catholic Gentleman) Here are some much more well known Catholics who were masters of the poetic art form.
G.K. Chesteron
“Men Say that the Sun was darkened: yet I had thought it beat brightly, even on Calvary: and he that hung upon the Torturing Tree heard all the crickets singing and was glad” - A prayer in darkness
Saint Thomas Aquinas
“On that night of the Last Supper, seated with his chosen band, He the Pascal Victim eating, first fulfills the Law’s command; then as Food to all His brethren gives Himself with His own Hand” - Pange Lingua
Saint John of the Cross
“Oh, Night that guided me, Oh night more lovely than the dawn, Oh night that joined Beloved with lover, Lover transformed in the Beloved!” - The Dark Night of the Soul
I hope the sacred poetry within this piece lights a fire in your heart for Christ.
Perhaps it is time for you to pick up the pen?
You never know who your words could evangelize.
Gerard Manley Hopkins - God's Grandeur. Now that is poetry.
Bless your work man