Who is Michael Earls

Michael Earls, S.J. (1875–1937) was a Jesuit priest, as well as a writer, poet, teacher, and administrator.

Life

The eldest of ten children, he was born in 1875 to Irish immigrant parents, Martin Earls and Mary (Shaughnessy) Earls, in Southbridge, Massachusetts, a manufacturing town in south, central Massachusetts.

He attended school in Southbridge and later prepared for college at Memramcook, near St. John’s New Brunswick. He entered College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Mass. in 1893, beginning what would be a long association with one of the first Catholic colleges in the U.S., graduating with an A.B.

He studied literature at Georgetown University from 1896–1897, earning an MA and then served as a tutor on a trip to Europe, after whic...
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Michael Earls Poems

  • Bethlehem
    O ye who sail Potomac's even tide
    To Vernon's shades, our Chieftain's hallowed mound;
    Or who at distant shrines high paeans sound
    In Alfred's cult, old England's morning pride; ...
  • My Father's Tunes
    My father had the gay good tunes, the like you'd seldom hear,
    A whole day could he whistle them, an' thin he'd up an' sing,
    The merry tunes an' twists o'them that suited all the year,
    An' you wouldn't ask but listen if yourself stood there a king. ...
  • The Columbine
    Gray lonely rocks about thee stand,
    Ignored of sun and dew,
    Yet is thy breath upon the land,
    To thy vocation true. ...
  • The Lifelong War
    Still goes the strife; the anguish does not die.
    Stronger the flesh is grown from earthy years,
    In siege about my soul that upward peers
    To see and hold its Good. The spirit's eye ...
  • His Light
    Gray mist on the sea,
    And the night coming down,
    She stays with sorrow
    In a far town. ...
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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt Poem
A Woman-s Sonnets: Ii
 by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Nay, dear one, ask me not to leave thee yet.
Let me a little longer hold thy hand.
Too soon it is to bid me to forget
The joys I was so late to understand.
The future holds but a blank face for me,
The past is all confused with tears and grey,
But the sweet present, while thy smiles I see,
Is perfect sunlight, an unclouded day.
...

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