In Memoriam

Go! heart of mine! the way is long --
The night is dark -- the place is far;
Go! kneel and pray, or chant a song,
Beside two graves where Mary's star
Shines o'er two children's hearts at rest,
With Mary's medals on their breast.

Go! heart! those children loved you so,
Their little lips prayed oft for you!
But ah! those necks are lying low
Round which you twined the badge of blue.
Go to their graves, this Virgin's feast,
With poet's song and prayer of priest.

Go! like a pilgrim to a shrine,
For that is holy ground where sleep
Children of Mary and of thine;
Go! kneel, and pray and sing and weep;
Last summer how their faces smiled
When each was blessed as Mary's child.

    *    *    *    *    *

My heart is gone! I cannot sing!
Beside those children's grave, song dies;
Hush! Poet! -- Priest! Prayer hath a wing
To pass the stars and reach the skies;
Sweet children! from the land of light
Look down and bless my heart to-night.

Abram Joseph Ryan

Abram Joseph Ryan was an American poet, Catholic priest, and former Confederate chaplain. Known as the 'Poet-Priest of the South,' his most famous work is 'The Conquered Banner.' Ryan wrote many poems that reflected his Southern heritage and the American Civil War. His works often possess a spiritual and melancholic tone, inspired by the losses of the war and his religious faith. In addition to poetry, he also wrote essays and gave public speeches.

Abram Joseph Ryan

Only a Dream

Abram Joseph Ryan, Simple Poetry

Yesterdays

Abram Joseph Ryan, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam (Father Keeler)

Abram Joseph Ryan, Simple Poetry

Sentinel Songs

Abram Joseph Ryan, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

In Memoriam (Father Keeler)

Father Keeler died February 28, 1880, in Mobile, Ala.
Inscribed to his sister.



"Sweet Christ! let him live, ah! we need his life,
    And woe to us if he goes!
Oh! his life is beautiful, sweet, and fair,
Like a holy hymn, and the stillest prayer;
Let him linger to help us in the strife
    On earth, with our sins and woes."

'Twas the cry of thousands who loved him so,
The Angel of Death said: "No! oh! no!"
He was passing away -- and none might save
The virgin priest from a spotless grave.

"O God! spare his life, we plead and pray,
    He taught us to love You so --
So, so much -- his life is so sweet and fair --
A still, still song -- and a holy prayer;
He is our Father; oh! let him stay --
    He gone, to whom shall we go?"<...

Abram Joseph Ryan

Reverie ["Only a few more years!"]

        Only a few more years!
        Weary years!
        Only a few more tears!
        Bitter tears!
And then -- and then -- like other men,
I cease to wander, cease to weep,
Dim shadows o'er my way shall creep;
And out of the day and into the night,
Into the dark and out of the bright
I go, and Death shall veil my face,
The feet of the years shall fast efface
My very name, and every trace
I leave on earth; for the stern years tread --
Tread out the names of the gone and dead!
And then, ah! then, like other men,
I close my eyes and go to sleep,
Only a few, one hour, shall weep:
Ah! me, the grave is dark and deep!

        Alas!    Alas!
        How soon we pass!
        And ah! we go
        So far away;
When go we must,<...

Abram Joseph Ryan

In Memoriam (David J. Ryan, C.S.A.)

Thou art sleeping, brother, sleeping
    In thy lonely battle grave;
Shadows o'er the past are creeping,
Death, the reaper, still is reaping,
Years have swept, and years are sweeping
Many a memory from my keeping,
But I'm waiting still, and weeping
    For my beautiful and brave.

When the battle songs were chanted,
    And war's stirring tocsin pealed,
By those songs thy heart was haunted,
And thy spirit, proud, undaunted,
Clamored wildly -- wildly panted:
"Mother! let my wish be granted;
I will ne'er be mocked and taunted
That I fear to meet our vaunted
    Foemen on the bloody field.

"They are thronging, mother! thronging,
    To a thousand fields of fame;
Let me go -- 'tis wrong, and wronging
God and thee to crush this longin...

Abram Joseph Ryan

Last of May

To the Children of Mary of the Cathedral of Mobile



In the mystical dim of the temple,
In the dream-haunted dim of the day,
The sunlight spoke soft to the shadows,
And said: "With my gold and your gray,
Let us meet at the shrine of the Virgin,
And ere her fair feast pass away,
Let us weave there a mantle of glory,
To deck the last evening of May."

The tapers were lit on the altar,
With garlands of lilies between;
And the steps leading up to the statue
Flashed bright with the roses' red sheen;
The sun-gleams came down from the heavens
Like angels, to hallow the scene,
And they seemed to kneel down with the shadows
That crept to the shrine of the Queen.

The singers, their hearts in their voices,
Had chanted the anthems of o...

Abram Joseph Ryan

Feast of the Assumption. - "A Night Prayer"

        Dark!    Dark!    Dark!
The sun is set; the day is dead:
        Thy Feast has fled;
My eyes are wet with tears unshed;
        I bow my head;
Where the star-fringed shadows softly sway
        I bend my knee,
And, like a homesick child, I pray,
        Mary, to thee.

        Dark!    Dark!    Dark!
And, all the day -- since white-robed priest
        In farthest East,
In dawn's first ray -- began the Feast,
        I -- I the least --
Thy least, and last, and lowest child,
        I called on thee!
Virgin! didst hear? my words were wild;
        Didst think of me?

        Dark!    Dark!    Dark!
Alas! and no!    The angels bright,
        With wings as white
As a dream of snow in love and light,
        Flashe...

Abram Joseph Ryan

In Memory of Very Rev. J. B. Etienne

Superior General of the Congregation of the Mission and of the Sisters of Charity.



A shadow slept folded in vestments,
The dream of a smile on its face,
Dim, soft as the gleam after sunset
That hangs like a halo of grace
Where the daylight hath died in the valley,
And the twilight hath taken its place.
A shadow! but still on the mortal
There rested the tremulous trace
Of the joy of a spirit immortal,
Passed up to its God in His grace.

A shadow! hast seen in the summer
A cloud wear the smile of the sun?
On the shadow of death there is flashing
The glory of noble deeds done;
On the face of the dead there is glowing
The light of a holy race run;
And the smile of the face is reflecting
The gleam of the crown he has won.
Still...

Abram Joseph Ryan