A Girls’s Sin – In Her Eyes (Francis Thompson Poems)
Cross child! red, and frowning so?'I, the day just over,Gave a lock of hair to--no!How DARE you say, my lover?'He ...
Cross child! red, and frowning so?'I, the day just over,Gave a lock of hair to--no!How DARE you say, my lover?'He ...
Proemion.Immeasurable Earth!Through the loud vast and populacy of Heaven,Tempested with gold schools of ponderous orbs,That cleav'st with deep-revolting harmoniesPassage perpetual, ...
Alpha and Omega, sadness and mirth, The springing music, and its wasting breath--The fairest things in life are Death and ...
An ode after Easter.Cast wide the folding doorways of the East,For now is light increased!And the wind-besomed chambers of the ...
Oh, but the heavenly grammar did I holdOf that high speech which angels' tongues turn gold!So should her deathless beauty ...
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I ...
Athwart the sod which is treading for God * the poet paced with hissplendid eyes;Paradise-verdure he stately passes * to ...
His shoulder did I holdToo high that I, o'erbold Weak one, Should lean thereon.But He a little hathDeclined ...
Cross child! red, and frowning so? 'I, the day just over,Gave a lock of hair to--no! How DARE you say, ...
'To Monica'Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare,And left the flushed print in a poppy there:Like a yawn of fire ...
This labouring, vast, Tellurian galleon,Riding at anchor off the orient sun,Had broken its cable, and stood out to spaceDown some ...
Too wearily had we and songBeen left to look and left to long,Yea, song and we to long and look,Since ...
(On a portrait of Coventry Patmore by J. S. Sargent, R.A.)Look on him. This is he whose works ye know;Ye ...
Thou dost to rich attire a grace,To let it deck itself with thee,And teachest pomp strange cunning waysTo be thought ...
The lover whose soul shaken isIn some decuman billow of bliss,Who feels his gradual-wading feetSink in some sudden hollow of ...
A metrical caprice.Up she rose, fair daughter--well she was gracedAs a cloud her going, stept from her chair,As a summer-soft ...
Thou dost to rich attire a grace, To let it deck itself with thee, And teachest pomp strange cunning ways ...
I fled Him down the nights and down the days I fled Him down the arches of the years I ...
To Monica Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare, And left the flushed print in a poppy there: Like a ...
Too wearily had we and song Been left to look and left to long, Yea, song and we to long ...
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