Catholic Exchange has an article about St Margaret Clitherow.
It would be a great blessing if her prayers and the rememberance of her courage in the face of a cruel and lingering death could inspire the Catholic Church in the UK, so that it became what it should be.
Homosexuality, Padre Pio, And Great Uncle George.
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There is, apparently, another fashionable VII priest who is doing very fine
in the US. A sort of Corapi 2.0, or, if you wish, a Barron pre-bishopric.
His n...
14 hours ago
2 comments:
I don't know if it was what I found below or not, an unfinished G.M.H. poem, but if not it was a similar one which I didnt lije at all as an adolescent but nevertheless stayed with me as a sort of afterthought or hint of a taste, a reminder-don't quite know the right word. Anyone know of any others?
found this on http://catholicism.org , with aninteresting commentary .
Margaret Clitheroe
by Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)
GOD’S counsel cólumnar-severe
But chaptered in the chief of bliss
Had always doomed her down to this -
Pressed to death. He plants the year;
The weighty weeks without hands grow,
Heaved drum on drum; but hands also
Must deal with Margaret Clitheroe.
The very victim would prepare.
Like water soon to be sucked in
Will crisp itself or settle or spin
So she; one sees that here and there
She mends the ways she means to go.
The last thing Margaret’s fingers sew
Is a shroud for Margaret Clitheroe.
The Christ-ed beauty of her mind
Her mould of features mated well.
She was admired. The spirit of hell
Being to her virtue clinching-blind
No wonder therefore was not slow
To the bargain of its hate to throw
The body of Margaret Clitheroe.
Great Thecla, the plumed passionflower,
Next Mary mother of maid and nun
- – – – – – – – – – – – – -
And every saint of bloody hour
And breath immortal thronged that show;
Heaven turned its starlight eyes below
To the murder of Margaret Clitheroe.
She was a woman, upright, outright;
Her will was bent at God. For that
Word went she should be crushed out flat
- – – – – – – – – – – – – -
Fawning fawning crocodiles
Days and days came round about
With tears to put her candle out;
They wound their winch of wicked smiles
To take her; while their tongues would go
God lighten your dark heart – but no,
Christ lived in Margaret Clitheroe.
She held her hands to, like in prayer;
They had them out and laid them wide
(Just like Jesus crucified);
They brought their hundredweights to bear.
Jews killed Jesus long ago
God’s son; these (they did not know)
God’s daughter Margaret Clitheroe.
When she felt the kill-weights crush
She told His name times-over three;
I suffer this she said for Thee.
After that in perfect hush
For a quarter of an hour or so
She was with the choke of woe. -
It is over, Margaret Clitheroe.
She caught the crying of those Three,
The Immortals of the eternal ring,
The Utterer, Utterèd, Uttering,
And witness in her place would she.
She not considered whether or no
She pleased the Queen and Council. So
To the death with Margaret Clitheroe!
Within her womb the child was quick.
Small matter of that then! Let him smother
And wreck in ruins of his mother.
- – – – – – – – – – – – – -
Mike Cliffson - thank you - thank you!
Wonderful and previously unknown to me.
God bless!
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