Francis Thompson Poems

His shoulder did I hold
Too high that I, o'erbold
Weak one,
Should lean thereon.
...

Soothsay. Behold, with rod twy-serpented,
Hermes the prophet, twining in one power
The woman with the man. Upon his head
...

Though meadow-ways as I did tread,
The corn grew in great lustihead,
And hey! the beeches burgeoned.
...

I do not need the skies'
Pomp, when I would be wise;
For pleasaunce nor to use
...

I love the evenings, passionless and fair, I love the evens,
...

Cross child! red, and frowning so?
'I, the day just over,
Gave a lock of hair to--no!
How DARE you say, my lover?'
...

How graciously thou wear'st the yoke
Of use that does not fail!
The grasses, like an anchored smoke,
...

You, O the piteous you!
Who all the long night through
Anticipatedly
Disclose yourself to me
...

The after-even! Ah, did I walk,
Indeed, in her or even?
For nothing of me or around
...

Here I make oath--
Although the heart that knows its bitterness
Hear loath,
And credit less--
...