All Poems
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To Olivia
© Francis Thompson
I fear to love thee, Sweet, because
Love's the ambassador of loss;
White flake of childhood, clinging so
To my soiled raiment, thy shy snow
To A Snowflake
© Francis Thompson
What heart could have thought you? --
Past our devisal
(O filigree petal!)
Fashioned so purely,
To A Poet Breaking Silence
© Francis Thompson
Too wearily had we and song
Been left to look and left to long,
Yea, song and we to long and look,
Since thine acquainted feet forsook
The Poppy
© Francis Thompson
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.
The Hound of Heaven
© Francis Thompson
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
New Year's Chimes
© Francis Thompson
What is the song the stars sing?
(And a million songs are as song of one)
This is the song the stars sing:
(Sweeter song's none)
In No Strange Land
© Francis Thompson
O world invisible, we view thee,
O world intangible, we touch thee,
O world unknowable, we know thee,
Inapprehensible, we clutch thee!
Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play
© Francis Thompson
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,
And some are unsung, and that may be tomorrow.
Gilded Gold
© Francis Thompson
Thou dost to rich attire a grace,
To let it deck itself with thee,
And teachest pomp strange cunning ways
To be thought simplicity.
Dream tryst
© Francis Thompson
The breaths of kissing night and day
Were mingled in the eastern Heaven,
Throbbing with unheard melody,
Shook Lyra all its star-cloud seven.
Daisy
© Francis Thompson
Where the thistle lifts a purple crown
Six foot out of the turf,
And the harebell shakes on the windy hill--
O breath of the distant surf!--
Before Her Portrait In Youth
© Francis Thompson
As lovers, banished from their lady's face
And hopeless of her grace,
Fashion a ghostly sweetness in its place,
Fondly adore
At Lord's
© Francis Thompson
It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,
Though my own red roses there may blow;
It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,
Though the red roses crest the caps, I know.
An Arab Love-Song
© Francis Thompson
The hunchèd camels of the night
Trouble the bright
And silver waters of the moon.
The Maiden of the Morn will soon
Through Heaven stray and sing,
Star gathering.
Ambrosia Arbor
© N. K. Osho
Thousandfold flowers unfetters fragrance
Thousandfold powers dowers Deliverance
All frith flowers adore thine aubade!
All Ambrosia audacious attunes along cascade!
To Plath, To Sexton
© Jean Valentine
So what use was poetry
to a white empty house?Wolf, swan, hare,
in by the fire.And when your tree
crashed through your house,what use then
Dream Barker
© Jean Valentine
We met for supper in your flat-bottomed boat.
I got there first: in a white dress: I remember
Wondering if you'd come. Then you shot over the bank,
A Virgilian Nigger Jim, and poled us off
To a little sea-food barker's cave you knew.
Elegy For Jane Kenyon
© Jean Valentine
Jane is big
with death, Don
sad and kind - Jane
though she's dying
is full of mind
The Singing
© C. K. Williams
I was walking home down a hill near our house
on a balmy afternoon
under the blossoms
Of the pear trees that go flamboyantly mad here
every spring with
their burgeoning forth
