Inspirational Verse

Bring Your Beauty ~ A Poem by John Freeman

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Finding Hope in Grief: An Analysis of John Freeman’s “Bring Your Beauty”

What if the only way to heal your deepest fears was to offer them up to the darkness?

Bring Your Beauty

John Freeman

Bring your beauty, bring your laughter, bring even your fears,
Bring the grief that is, the joy that was in other years,
Bring again the happiness, bring love, bring tears.

There was laughter once, there were grave, happy eyes,
Talk of firm earth, old earth-sweeping mysteries:
There were great silences under clear dark skies.

Now is silence, now is loneliness complete; all is done.
The thrush sings at dawn, too sweet, up creeps the sun:
But all is silent, silent, for all that was is done.

Yet bring beauty and bring laughter, and bring even tears,
And cast them down; strew your happiness and fears,
Then leave them to the darkness of thought and years.

Fears in that darkness die; they have no spring.
Grief in that darkness is a bird that wants wing….
O love, love, your brightness, your beauty bring.

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John Freeman’s “Bring Your Beauty” is a poignant invitation to embrace the full spectrum of human experience. It moves from the communal warmth of shared memories—laughter, mystery, and “grave, happy eyes”—into a stark, modern landscape of isolation. Freeman suggests that even when we feel “loneliness complete,” we must not withhold our emotions. By casting our joys and griefs into the “darkness of thought,” we allow them to transform. In this poetic ritual, fears lose their power to grow, and grief finds its rest, eventually clearing the path for beauty to return as a guiding light.

As you read this poem, ask yourself:

Which “fear” or “grief” are you currently holding onto that might find peace if you finally surrendered it to the passing of time?

Let My Shadow Disappears into Yours ~ A Poem by Par Lagerkvist

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Let My Shadow Disappears into Yours

Par Lagerkvist

Let my shadow disappear into yours.
Let me lose myself
under the tall trees,
that themselves lose their crowns in the twilight,
surrendering themselves to the sky and the night

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Me and the Mule ~ A Poem by Langston Hughes

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Me and the Mule

Langston Hughes

My old mule,
He’s gota grin on his face.
He’s been a mule so long
He’s forgotten about his race.

I’m like that old mule —
Black — and don’t give a damn!
You got to take me
Like I am.

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Music ~ A Poem by Walter de la Mare

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Music

Walter de la Mare

When music sounds, gone is the earth I know,
And all her lovely things even lovelier grow;
Her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees
Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies.

When music sounds, out of the water rise
Naiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes,
Rapt in strange dreams burns each enchanted face,
With solemn echoing stirs their dwelling-place.

When music sounds, all that I was I am
Ere to this haunt of brooding dust I came;
And from Time’s woods break into distant song
The swift-winged hours, as I hasten along.

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Chance ~ a poem by Sara Teasdale

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Chance

Sara Teasdale

HOW many times we must have met
Here on the street as strangers do,
Children of chance we were, who passed
The door of heaven and never knew.

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Briefly it Enters, Briefly it Speaks ~ a poem by Jane Kenyon

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Briefly it Enters, Briefly it Speaks

Jane Kenyon

I am the blossom pressed in a book,
found again after two hundred years. . . .

I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper….

When the young girl who starves
sits down to a table
she will sit beside me. . . .

I am food on the prisoner’s plate. . . .

I am water rushing to the wellhead,
filling the pitcher until it spills. . . .

I am the patient gardener
of the dry and weedy garden. . . .

I am the stone step,
the latch, and the working hinge. . . .

I am the heart contracted by joy. . . .
the longest hair, white
before the rest. . . .

I am there in the basket of fruit
presented to the widow. . . .

I am the musk rose opening
unattended, the fern on the boggy summit. . . .

I am the one whose love
overcomes you, already with you
when you think to call my name. . . .

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Barter ~ a poem by Sara Teasdale

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Barter

Sara Teasdale

Life has loveliness to sell,
 All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
 Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children’s faces looking up,
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
 Music like the curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
 Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit’s still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
 Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
 Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.

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Today’s Poem: Encourage by Charles Frederick White

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Encouragement

Charles Frederick White

‘Tis not winter time yet, my dear heart,
Though autumn has crept through the air;
‘Tis not time to be sad and lonely;
There’s no need to live in despair.
The birds are yet singing with sweetness;
The grass is yet growing and green.
The streams are yet rippling and merry;
The snow-clad hills are not yet seen.
The flowers are yet full and handsome;
The squirrel yet plays in the trees;
The sun has lost none of his lustre;
There’s some warmth yet left in the breeze.
Therefore, dear heart, cheer up, be mirthful;
Throb not with less vigor and vim;
Thy blood flows as freely as ever;
Thy life is yet nourished by Him.

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Today’s Poem: Inside a Deep Isolation by Saesei Muro

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Inside a Deep Isolation

Saesei Muro

When a musician steps down off the stage,
when he steps down, sent off with the clapping of a fine crowd of people,
what an intense and deserted isolation he must feel.
In spite of that thunder of admiration
how deeply a fine musician, outside the bounds of the crowd of people,
must love with a passion the height of isolation that is his.

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Today’s Poem: My Dog by Marchette Gaylord Chute

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My Dog

Marchette Gaylord Chute

His nose is short and scrubby; 
His ears hang rather low; 
And he always brings the stick back 
No matter how far you throw, 

He gets spanked rather often 
For things he shouldn’t do, 
Like lying-on-beds, and barking, 
And eating up shoes when they’re new 

He always wants to be going 
Where he isn’t supposed to go. 
He tracks up the house when it’s snowing— 
Oh, puppy, I love you so.

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