Francis Thompson Poems

Now in these last spent drops, slow, slower shed,
Love dies, Love dies, Love dies--ah, Love is dead!
Sad Love in life, sore Love in agony,
...

I

Secret was the garden;
Set i' the pathless awe
...

Hearken my chant, 'tis
As a Bacchante's,
A grape-spurt, a vine-splash, a tossed tress, flown vaunt 'tis!
Suffer my singing,
...

Now with wan ray that other sun of Song
Sets in the bleakening waters of my soul:
One step, and lo! the Cross stands gaunt and long
...

'Tis said there were no thought of hell,
Save hell were taught; that there should be
A Heaven for all's self-credible.
...

Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play;
Go, children of swift joy and tardy sorrow:
And some are sung, and that was yesterday,
...

I.

Since you have waned from us,
Fairest of women!
...

Whenas my life shall time with funeral tread
The heavy death-drum of the beaten hours,
Following, sole mourner, mine own manhood dead,
...

Ah, drops of gold in whitening flame
Burning, we know your lovely name -
Daisies, that little children pull!
...

'Friend, whereto art thou come?' Thus Verity;
Of each that to the world's sad Olivet
Comes with no multitude, but alone by night,
...