Francis Thompson

(16 December 1859 – 13 November 1907 / Preston, England)

Francis Thompson Poems

81. To Olivia 1/3/2003
82. What Shall I Your True Love Tell? 1/1/2004
83. To A Snowflake 1/3/2003
84. In No Strange Land (The Kingdom Of God) 1/3/2003
85. At Lord's 1/3/2003
86. The Hound Of Heaven 1/3/2003

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Best Poem of Francis Thompson

The Hound Of Heaven

I fled Him down the nights and down the days
I fled Him down the arches of the years
I fled Him down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind, and in the midst of tears
I hid from him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped and shot precipitated
Adown titanic glooms of chasme d hears
From those strong feet that followed, followed after
But with unhurrying chase and unperturbe d pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat, and a Voice beat,
More instant than the feet:
All things betray thee who betrayest me.

I pleaded, outlaw--wise by...

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At Lord's

It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,
Though my own red roses there may blow;
It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,
Though the red roses crest the caps, I know.
For the field is full of shades as I near the shadowy coast,
And a ghostly batsman plays to the bowling of a ghost,
And I look through my tears on a soundless-clapping host
As the run-stealers flicker to and fro,
To and fro: -

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