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Full Online Book HomeAuthor Francis ThompsonPage 1
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To Monica Thought Dying To Monica Thought Dying

To Monica Thought Dying
You, O the piteous you!Who all the long night throughAnticipatedlyDisclose yourself to meAlready in the waysBeyond our human comfortable days;How can you deem what DeathImpitiably saithTo me, who listening wakeFor your poor sake?When a grown woman diesYou know we think unceasinglyWhat things she said, how sweet, how wise;And these do make our misery.But you were (you to meThe dead anticipatedly!)You--eleven years, was't not, or so? -Were just a child, you know;And so you never saidThings sweet immeditatably and wiseTo interdict from closure my wet eyes:But foolish things, my dead, my dead!Little and laughable,Your age that fitted well.And was it such things... Poems - Post by : jacker - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 2580

The Poppy--to Monica The Poppy--to Monica

The Poppy--to Monica
Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare.And left the flushed print in a poppy there:Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came,And the fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame.With burnt mouth red like a lion's it drankThe blood of the sun as he slaughtered sank,And dipped its cup in the purpurate shineWhen the eastern conduits ran with wine.Till it grew lethargied with fierce bliss,And hot as a swinked gipsy is,And drowsed in sleepy savageries,With mouth wide a-pout for a sultry kiss.A child and man paced side by side,Treading the skirts of eventide;But between the clasp of his hand... Poems - Post by : Smartyield - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 3411

To My Godchild--francis M. W. M. To My Godchild--francis M. W. M.

To My Godchild--francis M. W. M.
This labouring, vast, Tellurian galleon,Riding at anchor off the orient sun,Had broken its cable, and stood out to spaceDown some frore Arctic of the aerial ways:And now, back warping from the inclement main,Its vaporous shroudage drenched with icy rain,It swung into its azure roads again;When, floated on the prosperous sun-gale, youLit, a white halcyon auspice, 'mid our frozen crew.To the Sun, stranger, surely you belong,Giver of golden days and golden song;Nor is it by an all-unhappy planYou bear the name of me, his constant Magian.Yet ah! from any other that it came,Lest fated to my fate you be, as to my... Poems - Post by : OptIn2003 - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 1378

The Making Of Viola The Making Of Viola

The Making Of Viola
I.THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.Spin, daughter Mary, spin,Twirl your wheel with silver din;Spin, daughter Mary, spin,Spin a tress for Viola.ANGELS.Spin, Queen Mary, aBrown tress for Viola!II.THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.Weave, hands angelical,Weave a woof of flesh to pall -Weave, hands angelical -Flesh to pall our Viola.ANGELS.Weave, singing brothers, aVelvet flesh for Viola!III.THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.Scoop, young Jesus, for her eyes,Wood-browned pools of Paradise -Young Jesus, for the eyes,For the eyes of Viola.ANGELS.Tint, Prince Jesus, aDusked eye for Viola!IV.THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.Cast a star therein to drown,Like a torch in cavern brown,Sink a burning star to drownWhelmed in eyes of Viola.ANGELS.Lave, Prince Jesus, aStar... Poems - Post by : leapoffaith - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 1713

Daisy Daisy

Daisy
Where the thistle lifts a purple crownSix foot out of the turf,And the harebell shakes on the windy hill -O the breath of the distant surf! -The hills look over on the South,And southward dreams the sea;And, with the sea-breeze hand in hand,Came innocence and she.Where 'mid the gorse the raspberryRed for the gatherer springs,Two children did we stray and talkWise, idle, childish things.She listened with big-lipped surprise,Breast-deep mid flower and spine:Her skin was like a grape, whose veinsRun snow instead of wine.She knew not those sweet words she spake,Nor knew her own sweet way;But there's never a bird, so sweet... Poems - Post by : vonjohn - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 3159

Epilogue Epilogue

Epilogue
Virtue may unlock hell, or evenA sin turn in the wards of Heaven,(As ethics of the text-book go),So little men their own deeds know,Or through the intricate meleeGuess whitherward draws the battle-sway;So little, if they know the deed,Discern what therefrom shall succeed.To wisest moralists 'tis but givenTo work rough border-law of Heaven,Within this narrow life of ours,These marches 'twixt delimitless Powers.Is it, if Heaven the future showed,Is it the all-severest modeTo see ourselves with the eyes of God?God rather grant, at His assize,He see us not with our own eyes!Heaven, which man's generations drawsNor deviates into replicas,Must of as deep diversityIn... Poems - Post by : blakew - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 617

A Judgment In Heaven A Judgment In Heaven

A Judgment In Heaven
a Judgment in Heaven {1}Athwart the sod which is treading for God * the poet paced with hissplendid eyes;Paradise-verdure he stately passes * to win to the Father ofParadise,Through the conscious and palpitant grasses * of inter-tangledrelucent dyes.The angels a-play on its fields of Summer * (their wild wingsrustled his guides' cymars)Looked up from disport at the passing comer, * as they pelted eachother with handfuls of stars;And the warden-spirits with startled feet rose, * hand on sword, bytheir tethered cars.With plumes night-tinctured englobed and cinctured, * of Saints, hisguided steps held onTo where on the far crystelline pale * of... Poems - Post by : pilgrim - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 2980

A Corymbus For Autumn A Corymbus For Autumn

A Corymbus For Autumn
Hearken my chant, 'tisAs a Bacchante's,A grape-spurt, a vine-splash, a tossed tress, flown vaunt 'tis!Suffer my singing,Gipsy of Seasons, ere thou go winging;Ere Winter throwsHis slaking snowsIn thy feasting-flagon's impurpurate glows!The sopped sun--toper as ever drank hard -Stares foolish, hazed,Rubicund, dazed,Totty with thine October tankard.Tanned maiden! with cheeks like apples russet,And breast a brown agaric faint-flushing at tip,And a mouth too red for the moon to buss it,But her cheek unvow its vestalship;Thy mists enclipHer steel-clear circuit illuminous,Until it crustRubiginousWith the glorious gules of a glowing rust.Far other saw we, other indeed,The crescent moon, in the May-days dead,Fly up with its... Poems - Post by : teamkatn - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 1510

Dream-tryst Dream-tryst

Dream-tryst
The breaths of kissing night and dayWere mingled in the eastern Heaven:Throbbing with unheard melodyShook Lyra all its star-chord seven:When dusk shrunk cold, and light trod shy,And dawn's grey eyes were troubled grey;And souls went palely up the sky,And mine to Lucide.There was no change in her sweet eyesSince last I saw those sweet eyes shine;There was no change in her deep heartSince last that deep heart knocked at mine.Her eyes were clear, her eyes were Hope's,Wherein did ever come and goThe sparkle of the fountain-dropsFrom her sweet soul below.The chambers in the house of dreamsAre fed with so divine an... Poems - Post by : Spaced_Cadet - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 1887

A Fallen Yew A Fallen Yew

A Fallen Yew
It seemed corrival of the world's great prime,Made to un-edge the scythe of Time,And last with stateliest rhyme.No tender Dryad ever did indueThat rigid chiton of rough yew,To fret her white flesh through:But some god like to those grim Asgard lords,Who walk the fables of the hordesFrom Scandinavian fjords,Upheaved its stubborn girth, and raised unriven,Against the whirl-blast and the levin,Defiant arms to Heaven.When doom puffed out the stars, we might have said,It would decline its heavy head,And see the world to bed.For this firm yew did from the vassal leas,And rain and air, its tributaries,Its revenues increase,And levy impost on the... Poems - Post by : richard4231 - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 2872

To The Dead Cardinal Of Westminster To The Dead Cardinal Of Westminster

To The Dead Cardinal Of Westminster
I will not perturbateThy Paradisal stateWith praiseOf thy dead days;To the new-heavened say, -"Spirit, thou wert fine clay:"This do,Thy praise who knew.Therefore my spirit clingsHeaven's porter by the wings,And holdsIts gated goldsApart, with thee to pressA private business; -Whence,Deign me audience.Anchorite, who didst dwellWith all the world for cellMy soulRound me doth rollA sequestration bare.Too far alike we were,Too farDissimilar.For its burning fruitage IDo climb the tree o' the sky;Do prizeSome human eyes.YOU smelt the Heaven-blossoms,And all the sweet embosomsThe dearUranian year.Those Eyes my weak gaze shuns,Which to the suns are Suns.DidNot affray your lid.The carpet was let down(With golden mouldings... Poems - Post by : deciste - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 3134

Epilogue--to The Poet's Sitter Epilogue--to The Poet's Sitter

Epilogue--to The Poet's Sitter
Epilogue--to the Poet's Sitter,Wherein he excuseth himself for the manner of the Portrait. Alas! now wilt thou chide, and say (I deem),My figured descant hides the simple theme:Or in another wise reproving, sayI ill observe thine own high reticent way.Oh, pardon, that I testify of theeWhat thou couldst never speak, nor others be!Yet (for the book is not more innocentOf what the gazer's eyes makes so intent),She will but smile, perhaps, that I find my fairSufficing scope in such strait theme as her."Bird of the sun! the stars' wild honey-bee!Is your gold browsing done so thoroughly?Or sinks a singed wing to narrow... Poems - Post by : monte888 - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 1185

Her Portrait Her Portrait

Her Portrait
Oh, but the heavenly grammar did I holdOf that high speech which angels' tongues turn gold!So should her deathless beauty take no wrong,Praised in her own great kindred's fit and cognate tongue.Or if that language yet with us abode.Which Adam in the garden talked with God!But our untempered speech descends--poor heirs!Grimy and rough-cast still from Babel's bricklayers:Curse on the brutish jargon we inherit,Strong but to damn, not memorise, a spirit!A cheek, a lip, a limb, a bosom, theyMove with light ease in speech of working-day;And women we do use to praise even so.But here the gates we burst, and to the... Poems - Post by : mercuryalliance - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 1998

Gilded Gold Gilded Gold

Gilded Gold
Thou dost to rich attire a grace,To let it deck itself with thee,And teachest pomp strange cunning waysTo be thought simplicity.But lilies, stolen from grassy mold,No more curled state unfoldTranslated to a vase of gold;In burning throne though they keep stillSerenities unthawed and chill.Therefore, albeit thou'rt stately so,In statelier state thou us'dst to go.Though jewels should phosphoric burnThrough those night-waters of thine hair,A flower from its translucid urnPoured silver flame more lunar-fair.These futile trappings but recallDegenerate worshippers who fallIn purfled kirtle and brocadeTo 'parel the white Mother-Maid.For, as her image stood arrayedIn vests of its self-substance wroughtTo measure of the sculptor's... Poems - Post by : sat1983 - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 732

Scala Jacobi Portaque Eburnea Scala Jacobi Portaque Eburnea

Scala Jacobi Portaque Eburnea
Her soul from earth to Heaven lies,Like the ladder of the vision,Whereon goTo and fro,In ascension and demission,Star-flecked feet of Paradise.Now she is drawn up from me,All my angels, wet-eyed, tristful,Gaze from greatHeaven's gateLike pent children, very wistful,That below a playmate see.Dream-dispensing face of hers!Ivory port which loosed upon meWings, I wist,Whose amethystTrepidations have forgone me, -Hesper's filmy traffickers!(The end)Francis Thompson's poem: Scala Jacobi Portaque Eburnea... Poems - Post by : digitalgoods - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 2282

A Carrier Song A Carrier Song

A Carrier Song
I.Since you have waned from us,Fairest of women!I am a darkened cageSong cannot hymn in.My songs have followed you,Like birds the summer;Ah! bring them back to me,Swiftly, dear comer!Seraphim,Her to hymn,Might leave their portals;And at my feet learnThe harping of mortals!II.Where wings to rustle use,But this poor tarrier -Searching my spirit's eaves -Find I for carrier.Ah! bring them back to meSwiftly, sweet comer!Swift, swift, and bring with youSong's Indian summer!Seraphim,Her to hymn,Might leave their portals;And at my feet learnThe harping of mortals!III.Whereso your angel is,My angel goeth;I am left guardianless,Paradise knoweth!I have no Heaven leftTo weep my wrongs to;Heaven, when you... Poems - Post by : lovehomelife - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 1230

'manus Animam Pinxit' "manus Animam Pinxit"

'manus Animam Pinxit'
Lady who hold'st on me dominion!Within your spirit's arms I stay me fastAgainst the fellImmitigate ravening of the gates of hell;And claim my right in you, most hardly won,Of chaste fidelity upon the chaste:Hold me and hold by me, lest both should fall(O in high escalade high companion!)Even in the breach of Heaven's assaulted wall.Like to a wind-sown sapling grow I fromThe clift, Sweet, of your skyward-jetting soul, -Shook by all gusts that sweep it, overcomeBy all its clouds incumbent: O be trueTo your soul, dearest, as my life to you!For if that soil grow sterile, then the wholeOf me... Poems - Post by : AndreVas - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 1388

To A Poet Breaking Silence To A Poet Breaking Silence

To A Poet Breaking Silence
Too wearily had we and songBeen left to look and left to long,Yea, song and we to long and look,Since thine acquainted feet forsookThe mountain where the Muses hymnFor Sinai and the Seraphim.Now in both the mountains' shineDress thy countenance, twice divine!From Moses and the Muses drawThe Tables of thy double Law!His rod-born fount and CastalyLet the one rock bring forth for thee,Renewing so from either springThe songs which both thy countries sing:Or we shall fear lest, heavened thus long,Thou should'st forget thy native song,And mar thy mortal melodiesWith broken stammer of the skies.Ah! let the sweet birds of the LordWith... Poems - Post by : pjtent - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 1978

Shelley Shelley

Shelley
The Church, which was once the mother of poets no less than of saints, during the last two centuries has relinquished to aliens the chief glories of poetry, if the chief glories of holiness she has preserved for her own. The palm and the laurel, Dominic and Dante, sanctity and song, grew together in her soil: she has retained the palm, but forgone the laurel. Poetry in its widest sense, {1} and when not professedly irreligious, has been too much and too long among many Catholics either misprised or distrusted; too much and too generally the feeling has been... Essays - Post by : oursecurefuture - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 748

Sister Songs Sister Songs

Sister Songs
PREFACE This poem, though new in the sense of being now for the first time printed, was written some four years ago, about the same date as the Hound of Heaven in my former volume. One image in the Proem was an unconscious plagiarism from the beautiful image in Mr. Patmore's St. Valentine's Day:- "O baby Spring,That flutter'st sudden 'neath the breast of Earth,A month before the birth!"Finding I could not disengage it without injury to the passage in which it is embedded, I have preferred to leave it, with this acknowledgment to a Poet rich enough to lend... Poems - Post by : upena - Date : September 2011 - Author : Francis Thompson - Read : 1421