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Home›Traditions›Roman Catholic

Roman Catholic Illustrations

Reading scripture in unity with Sacred Tradition and the teaching authority of the Church.

Key question: “How does this passage illuminate and cohere with the deposit of faith handed down through Sacred Tradition?”

24,081 sermon illustrations through the Roman Catholic lens

Poetry

With a Guitar, to Jane

Ariel to Miranda:--Take This slave of Music, for the sake Of him who is the slave of thee, And teach it all the harmony In which thou canst, and only thou, Make the delighted spirit glow, Till joy denies itself...

Universal

Percy Bysshe Shelley

436 words

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Poetry

To My Brothers

Small, busy flames play through the fresh-laid coals, And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep Like whispers of the household gods that keep A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls.

Universal

John Keats

Short96 words

Poetry

On the Death of a Young Lady, Cousin to the Author, and Very Dear to Him

Hush'd are the winds, and still the evening gloom, Not e'en a zephyr wanders through the grove, Whilst I return to view my Margaret's tomb, And scatter flowers on the dust I love.

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

184 words

Poetry

And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low?

Sweet lady! speak those words again: Yet if they grieve thee, say not so-- I would not give that bosom pain. My heart is sad, my hopes are gone, My blood runs coldly through my breast; And when I perish,...

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

164 words

Poetry

When I was small, a Woman died --

When I was small, a Woman died -- Today -- her Only Boy Went up from the Potomac -- His face all Victory To look...

Sonnet 23 - Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead

Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead, Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine? And would the sun for thee more coldly shine Because of grave-damps falling round my head? I marvelled, my Beloved, when I read...

Universal

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

110 words

Poetry

520. Ballad on Mr. Heron’s Election—No. 3

’TWAS in the seventeen hunder year O’ grace, and ninety-five, That year I was the wae’est man Of ony man alive. In March the three-an’-twentieth morn, The sun raise clear an’ bright; But oh! I was a waefu’ man, Ere to-fa’ o’ the night.

Epithalamium

ANOTHER VERSION OF THE PRECEDING. Night, with all thine eyes look down! Darkness shed its holiest dew! When ever smiled the inconstant moon On a pair so true? Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light, Lest eyes see their own delight!

The Firetail's Nest

"Tweet" pipes the robin as the cat creeps by Her nestling young that in the elderns lie, And then the bluecap tootles in its glee, Picking the flies from orchard apple tree, And "pink" the chaffinch cries its well-known strain,...

Love and Solitude

I hate the very noise of troublous man Who did and does me all the harm he can. Free from the world I would a prisoner be And my own shadow all my company; And lonely see the shooting stars...

A Summer Evening Churchyard

LECHLADE, GLOUCESTERSHIRE. The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere Each vapour that obscured the sunset's ray; And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair In duskier braids around the languid eyes of Day: Silence and Twilight, unbeloved of men, Creep...

To Helen

I saw thee once--once only--years ago: I must not say _how_ many--but _not_ many.

Sonnet 67: Ah! wherefore with infection should he live

wherefore with infection should he live, And with his presence grace impiety, That sin by him advantage should achieve, And lace itself with his society? Why should false painting imitate his cheek, And steel dead seeming of his living hue?

394. Song—Braw Lads o’ Gala Water

BRAW, braw lads on Yarrow-braes, They rove amang the blooming heather; But Yarrow braes, nor Ettrick shaws Can match the lads o’ Galla Water.

Evening: Ponte Al Mare, Pisa

The sun is set; the swallows are asleep; The bats are flitting fast in the gray air; The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep, And evening's breath, wandering here and there Over the quivering surface of the stream,...

Stanzas

IN a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot undo them, With a sleety whistle through them; Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime.

Stonepit

The passing traveller with wonder sees A deep and ancient stonepit full of trees; So deep and very deep the place has been, The church might stand within and not be seen.

Jesus Hasting to Suffer

The Saviour, what a noble flame Was kindled in his breast, When hasting to Jerusalem, He march'd before the rest. Good will to men, and zeal for God, His every thought engross; He longs to be baptized with blood, He pants to reach the cross!

Sonnet 2: When forty winters shall besiege thy brow

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now, Will be a tatter'd weed of small worth held: Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies,...

Out of the Rolling Ocean, the Crowd.

1 OUT of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me, Whispering, I love you, before long I die, I have travel’d a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you, For I could not...

Summer Winds

The wind waves oer the meadows green And shakes my own wild flowers And shifts about the moving scene Like the life of summer hours; The little bents with reedy head, The scarce seen shapes of flowers, All kink about...

Stanzas to the Po

River, that rollest by the ancient walls, Where dwells the Lady of my love, when she Walks by thy brink, and there perchance recalls A faint and fleeting memory of me: What if thy deep and ample stream should be...

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

430 words

Poetry

Translation From Anacreon. Ode 1. to His Lyre

I wish to tune my quivering lyre, To deeds of fame, and notes of fire; To echo, from its rising swell, How heroes fought and nations fell, When Atreus' sons advanc'd to war, Or Tyrian Cadmus rov'd afar; But still,...

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

145 words

Poetry

A Dream

In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed-- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast On things around...

Universal

Edgar Allan Poe

Short96 words