Francis Thompson

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

Francis Thompson Quotes

    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 drank
    The blood of the sun as he slaughtered sank,

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