PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Modest, but comfortable was the room

At Sallent, Barcelona where the Saint

Worked busily before his Jaquart loom

With his so clever, deft  artistic hands.

Suspended warp threads stretched out very taut,

To interlace with  yarns to make the weft,

And now the gifted weaver slowly brought

The shuttle through the shed, most skilled and deft.



So many ways to weave and many a style,

With fill-ins plain, or rich decorative,

But love must have the craftsman of textile

To well create the product with its weave.

Did Antony perhaps think of the One

Who weaved a robe, - a garment without seam,

With boundless love, for her dear only son,

Who would in time to come the world redeem?



Behind the warp suspended high and tall,

He heard  a voice that seemed at first not clear,

But then more persuasive seemed the call,

Insisting that he change his fine  carrier.

To Barcelona went young Antony,

To yet refine and give his work a lift,

With judges praising his efficiency

They  praised his skill and extraordinary gift.



But lo! - his  ardent spirit asked for more,

Than excellence in the fine weaving art,

And what he had esteemed so high before

No longer weighed upon the young man's heart.

Gifts of the highest orders soon outshone

His erstwhile talents and would now replace,

With Spirit whirling like a gale- cyclone

A-stirring up new talents with His grace.  



The sheddles, shuttle, harness, and that gear,

Still handled cleverly and with a smile,

But t'was that "Call"   he could forever hear,

This master maker of the  best textile.

He worked by day and studied in the night,

And soon  acquired skill and expertise,

The Blessed Lady's image by his side.

The holy Books of Scripture on his knees.



The Call for higher life he recognized,

A benefice permitting to fulfill

His studies in the ministry of Christ

With ardor and with dedicated zeal.

Lo! Catalonia, Cuba, Canaries,

Then on to Rome, and back again to Spain,

Where vicious lies and biting calomnies

Caused Antony much suffering and pain.



His written works are great and numerous,

And he revived the language Catalan,

That show a fervent soul magnanimous,

Soul passionate  and cosmopolitan.

Pain he endured great Father Antony

By haters and nefarious foes oppressed,

He knew of suffering and adversity,

And knew of spite's and hatred's cruel test.



As Missionary Priest and Minister

Of the most destitute, disenfranchised,

The holy Padre would henceforth take care,

In his great zeal and love for men and Christ.

His heart is incorrupt, the pilgrims' throng

Flocks to his grave to tell him of their cares,

And pray with fervor until evensong,

Strong families and beat-up solitaires.



Dear holy father Antony we plead

And pray  and supplicate with confidence,

To graciously for us to intercede

For  blessings flowing from your generous hands.

Your banner, Father Antony Claret

Consumed with ardor's zeal let it fly high

So that  it's threads of of warp and weft will spread

To thrust your turf  up to the starry sky.



A perpetuity,- dear Fater give

That your dear sons and daughter will prevail

To touch the heart of every child of Eve,

And by your intercession never fail

To plant within men's hearts the precious seed

That deeply touched by their so zealous word,

Will be prepared, when it is time to meet

Their master sovereign our Christ the Lord.

































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