Full Version: The Poem ' My Daughter The Nun'
Does anyone have it? Some one posted it a while ago, if you could find it and post it, that would be wonderful, thanks!
I am not sure whether this is what you are looking for but there is an article titled "A Carmelite Mom Speaks" on this link :- http://www.cloisters.tripod.com/id11.html
No, it was a poem, I think OLAM DAD may have posted it a while back. It was kinda long, but I really liked it.
QUOTE(Jennirom @ Dec 21 2006, 01:01 PM) [snapback]1146839[/snapback]
I am not sure whether this is what you are looking for but there is an article titled "A Carmelite Mom Speaks" on this link :- http://www.cloisters.tripod.com/id11.html
but here is another article titled "my daughter the nun".
(You didn't mean Robert Southey's 'The Old Woman of Berkeley', did you?
QUOTE(allegra @ Dec 21 2006, 11:02 AM) [snapback]1146876[/snapback]
The link doesn't work for me
but here is another article titled "my daughter the nun".
(You didn't mean Robert Southey's 'The Old Woman of Berkeley', did you?
No, thats not it either. That will bug me forever now.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/fathero9/288894612/
Sorry I didn't find what you were looking for however I did come across this photo and it made me smile, hope you all enjoy it also.
Sorry I didn't find what you were looking for however I did come across this photo and it made me smile, hope you all enjoy it also.
QUOTE(DiscerningSoul @ Dec 21 2006, 02:11 PM) [snapback]1146995[/snapback]
http://www.flickr.com/photos/fathero9/288894612/
Sorry I didn't find what you were looking for however I did come across this photo and it made me smile, hope you all enjoy it also.
That costume is a million times better than any ghost or witch!!!
I think that I found it. 
"Sure, my daughter has been vested
And my joy I cannot hide,
For I've watched her from the cradle
With a father's honest pride.
But the morn she left me early
I was feeling mighty blue,
Just athinking how I'd miss her
And the things she used to do.
But now, somehow it's different-
With each rising of the sun,
And my heart is ever singing,
'I'm the daddy of a nun.
Since to err is only human
There's a whole lot on the slate,
That I'll have to make account for,
When I reach the golden gate.
But them I'm not a-worryin
About the deeds I've done,
I'll just whisper to St. Peter: 'I'm the daddy of a nun.'"
Is that it?
"Sure, my daughter has been vested
And my joy I cannot hide,
For I've watched her from the cradle
With a father's honest pride.
But the morn she left me early
I was feeling mighty blue,
Just athinking how I'd miss her
And the things she used to do.
But now, somehow it's different-
With each rising of the sun,
And my heart is ever singing,
'I'm the daddy of a nun.
Since to err is only human
There's a whole lot on the slate,
That I'll have to make account for,
When I reach the golden gate.
But them I'm not a-worryin
About the deeds I've done,
I'll just whisper to St. Peter: 'I'm the daddy of a nun.'"
Is that it?
No, althought I like that one a lot. It was really long, and had alot about the austerity of the life.
Was it a Hillaire Belloc poem? His daughter was a nun. An Augustinian canoness, perhaps?
QUOTE(she_who_is_not @ Dec 24 2006, 12:48 AM) [snapback]1148467[/snapback]
Was it a Hillaire Belloc poem? His daughter was a nun. An Augustinian canoness, perhaps?
No, it was his granddaughter the nun, and she was an Augustinian Canoness.
Is this it?
Nuns of the Perpetual Adoration
Calm, sad, secure; behind high convent walls,
These watch the sacred lamp, these watch and pray:
And it is one with them when evening falls,
And one with them the cold return of day.
These heed not time; their nights and days they make
Into a long returning rosary,
Whereon their lives are threaded for Christ's sake;
Meekness and vigilance and chastity.
A vowed patrol, in silent companies,
Life-long they keep before the living Christ.
In the dim church, their prayers and penances
Are fragrant incense to the Sacrificed.
Outside, the world is wild and passionate;
Man's weary laughter and his sick despair
Entreat at their impenetrable gate:
They heed no voices in their dream of prayer.
They saw the glory of the world displayed;
They saw the bitter of it, and the sweet;
They knew the roses of the world should fade,
And be trod under by the hurrying feet.
Therefore they rather put away desire,
And crossed their hands and came to sanctuary
And veiled their heads and put on coarse attire:
Because their comeliness was vanity.
And there they rest; they have serene insight
Of the illuminating dawn to be:
Mary's sweet Star dispels for them the night,
The proper darkness of humanity.
Calm, sad, secure; with faces worn and mild:
Surely their choice of vigil is the best?
Yea! for our roses fade, the world is wild;
But there, beside the altar, there is rest.
Ernest Christopher Dowson
Nuns of the Perpetual Adoration
Calm, sad, secure; behind high convent walls,
These watch the sacred lamp, these watch and pray:
And it is one with them when evening falls,
And one with them the cold return of day.
These heed not time; their nights and days they make
Into a long returning rosary,
Whereon their lives are threaded for Christ's sake;
Meekness and vigilance and chastity.
A vowed patrol, in silent companies,
Life-long they keep before the living Christ.
In the dim church, their prayers and penances
Are fragrant incense to the Sacrificed.
Outside, the world is wild and passionate;
Man's weary laughter and his sick despair
Entreat at their impenetrable gate:
They heed no voices in their dream of prayer.
They saw the glory of the world displayed;
They saw the bitter of it, and the sweet;
They knew the roses of the world should fade,
And be trod under by the hurrying feet.
Therefore they rather put away desire,
And crossed their hands and came to sanctuary
And veiled their heads and put on coarse attire:
Because their comeliness was vanity.
And there they rest; they have serene insight
Of the illuminating dawn to be:
Mary's sweet Star dispels for them the night,
The proper darkness of humanity.
Calm, sad, secure; with faces worn and mild:
Surely their choice of vigil is the best?
Yea! for our roses fade, the world is wild;
But there, beside the altar, there is rest.
Ernest Christopher Dowson
What a lovely poem... thank you for sharing. a Merry Christmas. 
YES THGAT IS IT!!!! THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!
YAY!
Too funny. I gave that poem to the nuns when I entered the PCPA, but your request for the 'daughter, the nun' threw me, because that's not really about someone's daughter. It made Mother Delores Marie laugh when she read it. . .'SAD??' LOL
That's a nice poem.
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