Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

(14 September 1883 – 19 April 1922 / Gunnersbury, London)

Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall Poems

41. The Lovers Of Marchaid 4/20/2010
42. Sleep 4/20/2010
43. The Tree 4/20/2010
44. The Woodsman In The Foundry 4/20/2010
45. Three Island Songs 4/20/2010
46. To Alcithoë 4/20/2010
47. Wanderlied 4/20/2010
48. When It Is Finished 4/20/2010
49. To Timarion 4/20/2010
50. St. Yve’s Poor 4/20/2010
51. The Sea Witch 4/20/2010
52. The House’s Setting 4/20/2010
53. The Immortal 4/20/2010
54. Singing Children 4/20/2010
55. Miranda’s Tomb 4/20/2010
56. O Silver Rose 4/20/2010
57. For All Prisoners And Captives 4/20/2010
58. Evening 4/20/2010
59. The Sailor's Grave At Clo-Oose, V.I. 1/3/2003
60. Kwannon 1/3/2003
61. The Lamp Of Poor Souls 1/3/2003
62. Song 1/3/2003
63. Bartimeus Grown Old 4/20/2010
64. English Flowers 4/20/2010
65. Duna 4/20/2010
66. Merlin's Isle 4/20/2010
67. Quiet 4/20/2010
68. Swallows 4/20/2010
69. The Pool 4/20/2010
70. Youth’s End 4/20/2010
71. My Father He Was A Fisherman 4/20/2010
72. Dedication 4/20/2010
73. In The Gardens Of Shushan 4/20/2010
74. In A Monastery Garden 4/20/2010
75. Mary Tired 4/20/2010
76. The Shepherd Boy 4/20/2010
77. I Shall Not Go With Pain 4/20/2010
78. A Child’s Song 4/20/2010
79. Père Lalemant 4/20/2010
80. Daisy Time 1/3/2003

Comments about Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

  • Theresa Bourque (2/18/2007 10:58:00 AM)

    I love this poem. I memorized it when I was 9 years old and love it as much to this day

    1 person liked.
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Best Poem of Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

Marching Men

Under the level winter sky
I saw a thousand Christs go by.
They sang an idle song and free
As they went up to calvary.

Careless of eye and coarse of lip,
They marched in holiest fellowship.
That heaven might heal the world, they gave
Their earth-born dreams to deck the grave.

With souls unpurged and steadfast breath
They supped the sacrament of death.
And for each one, far off, apart,
Seven swords have rent a woman's heart.

Read the full of Marching Men

Vision

I have not walked on common ground,
Nor drunk of earthly streams;
A shining figure, mailed and crowned,
Moves softly through my dreams.

He makes the air so keen and strange,
The stars so fiercely bright;
The rocks of time, the tides of change,
Are nothing in his sight.

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