Francis Thompson Poems
- The Hound Of Heaven I fled Him down the nights and down the ...
- To A Snowflake What heart could have thought you? -- Past ...
- At Lord's It is little I repair to the matches of the ...
- In No Strange Land (The Kingdo... The kingdom of God is...
- To Olivia I fear to love thee, Sweet, because Love's the ...
- Daisy Where the thistle lifts a purple crown Six foot out ...
- The Poppy To Monica Summer set lip to earth's bosom...
Francis Thompson was an English poet and ascetic. After attending college, he moved to London to become a writer, but in menial work, became addicted to opium, and was a street vagrant for years. A married couple read his poetry and rescued him, publishing his first book, Poems in 1893. Francis Thompson lived as an unbalanced invalid in Wales and at Storrington, but wrote three books of poetry, with other works and essays, before dying of tuberculosis in 1907.
Life and Work
Born in Preston, Lancashire, his father Charles was a doctor who had converted to Roman Catholicism, following his brother Edward Healy Thompson, a friend of Cardinal Manning.
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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...