Francis Thompson Poems

It seemed corrival of the world's great prime,
Made to un-edge the scythe of Time,
And last with stateliest rhyme.
...

Immeasurable Earth!
Through the loud vast and populacy of Heaven,
Tempested with gold schools of ponderous orbs,
...

Lo, in the sanctuaried East,
Day, a dedicated priest
In all his robes pontifical exprest,
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Alpha and Omega, sadness and mirth,
The springing music, and its wasting breath--
The fairest things in life are Death and Birth,
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Phoebus, who taught me art divine,
Here tried his hand where I did mine;
And his white fingers in this face
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Look on him. This is he whose works ye know;
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Athwart the sod which is treading for God * the poet paced with his
splendid eyes;
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Mortals, that behold a Woman,
Rising 'twixt the Moon and Sun;
Who am I the heavens assume? an
All am I, and I am one.
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Lo I, Song's most true lover, plain me sore
That worse than other women she can deceive,
For she being goddess, I have given her more
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O bird with heart of wassail,
That toss the Bacchic branch,
And slip your shaken music,
An elfin avalanche
...