Prayer to People

I go through the days
Like a thief.
And no one hears
My heart lament to itself.
Please have pity.
Like me.
I hate you.
I want to embrace you.

Alfred Lichtenstein

Alfred Lichtenstein was a German poet and writer known for his expressionist works. Born on August 23, 1889, in Berlin, he studied law at the University of Berlin. His works often reflect the grim realities of early 20th-century Europe and the senseless horrors of World War I. He volunteered for military service at the outbreak of WWI and was subsequently killed in action on September 25, 1914. Lichtenstein's legacy lives on through his poignant and often haunting poetry.

Alfred Lichtenstein

Morning

Alfred Lichtenstein, Simple Poetry

Winter

Alfred Lichtenstein, Simple Poetry

Pathos

Alfred Lichtenstein, Simple Poetry

Romantic Journey

Alfred Lichtenstein, Simple Poetry

English

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The Prayer-Seeker

Along the aisle where prayer was made,
A woman, all in black arrayed,
Close-veiled, between the kneeling host,
With gliding motion of a ghost,
Passed to the desk, and laid thereon
A scroll which bore these words alone,
Pray for me!

Back from the place of worshipping
She glided like a guilty thing
The rustle of her draperies, stirred
By hurrying feet, alone was heard;
While, full of awe, the preacher read,
As out into the dark she sped:
"Pray for me!"

Back to the night from whence she came,
To unimagined grief or shame!
Across the threshold of that door
None knew the burden that she bore;
Alone she left the written scroll,
The legend of a troubled soul,--
Pray for me!

Glide on, poor ghost of woe or sin!
Thou leav'...

John Greenleaf Whittier

Prayer.

I stood upon a hill, and watched the death
    Of the day's turmoil. Still the glory spread
    Cloud-top to cloud-top, and each rearing head
Trembled to crimson. So a mighty breath
    From some wild Titan in a rising ire
    Might kindle flame in voicing his desire.

Soft stirred the evening air; the pine-crowned hills
    Glowed in an answering rapture where the flush
    Grew to a blood-drop, and the vesper hush
Moved in my soul, while from my life all ills
    Faded and passed away. God's voice was there
    And in my heart the silence was a prayer.

There was a day when to my fearfulness
    Was born a joy, when doubt was swept afar
    A shadow and a memory, and a star
Gleamed in my sky more bright for the distress.
    The stillness breathed ...

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

The Lords Prayer

        "Audemus dicere Pater Noster."-CANON OF THE MASS.

                There is a bolder way,
    There is a wilder enterprise than this
    All-human iteration day by day.
    Courage, mankind!    Restore Him what is His.

                Out of His mouth were given
    These phrases.    O replace them whence they came.
    He, only, knows our inconceivable "Heaven,"
    Our hidden "Father," and the unspoken "Name";

                Our "trespasses," our "bread,"
    The "will" inexorable yet implored;
    The miracle-words that are and are not said,
    Charged with the unknown purpose of their Lord.

                "Forgive," "give," "lead us not"-
    Speak them by Him, O man the unaware,
    Speak by that dear tongue, though t...

Alice Meynell

The Son

Mother, don't hold me,
Mother, your caress hurts me,
See through my face,
How I glow and wane.
Give the last kiss.    Let me go.
Send a prayer after me.
That I broke your life,
Mother, forgive me.

Alfred Lichtenstein

The Universal Prayer.

("Ma fille, va prier!")

[XXXVII., June, 1830.]


I.

Come, child, to prayer; the busy day is done,
A golden star gleams through the dusk of night;
The hills are trembling in the rising mist,
The rumbling wain looms dim upon the sight;
All things wend home to rest; the roadside trees
Shake off their dust, stirred by the evening breeze.

The sparkling stars gush forth in sudden blaze,
As twilight open flings the doors of night;
The fringe of carmine narrows in the west,
The rippling waves are tipped with silver light;
The bush, the path - all blend in one dull gray;
The doubtful traveller gropes his anxious way.

Oh, day! with toil, with wrong, with hatred rife;
Oh, blessed night! with sober calmness sweet,
The sad wind...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Doubt And Prayer

Tho Sin too oft, when smitten by Thy rod,
Rail at Blind Fate with many a vain Alas
From sin thro sorrow into Thee we pass
By that same path our true forefathers trod;
And let not Reason fail me, nor the sod
Draw from my death Thy living flower and grass,
Before I learn that Love, which is, and was
My Father, and my Brother, and my God!
Steel me with patience! soften me with grief!
Let blow the trumpet strongly while I pray,
Till this embattled wall of unbelief
My prison, not my fortress, fall away!
Then, if Thou willest, let my day be brief,
So Thou wilt strike Thy glory thro the day.

Alfred Lord Tennyson