Francis Thompson

Love, like a wind, shook wide your blosmy eyes,

May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

For that you loved me.
You were so kind, so sweet, none could withhold
To adore, but that you were so strange, so cold;
For that you loved me.
Like to a box of spikenard did you break
Your heart about my feet. What words you spake!
For that you loved me.
Life fell to dust without me; so you tried
All carefullest ways to drive me from your side,
For that you loved me.
You gave yourself as children give, that weep
And snatch back, with–‘I meant you not to keep!’
For that you loved me.
I am no woman, girl, nor ever knew
That love could teach all ways that hate could do
To her that loved me.
Have less of love, or less of woman in
Your love, or loss may even from this begin–
That you so love me.
For, wild Penelope, the web you wove
You still unweave, unloving all your love;
Is this to love me,
Or what rights have I that scorn could deny?
Even of your love, alas, poor Love must die,
If so you love me!

Francis Thompson

Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play;

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

And some are sung, and that was yesterday,And some unsung, and that may be to-morrow.Go forth; and if it be o’er stony way,Old joy can lend what newer grief must borrow:And it was sweet, and that was yesterday,And sweet is sweet, though purchas-ed with sorrow.Go, songs, and come not back from your far way:And if…

Francis Thompson

Wherein he excuseth himself for the manner of the Portrait.

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

My figured descant hides the simple theme:Or in another wise reproving, sayI ill observe thine own high reticent way.Oh, pardon, that I testify of theeWhat thou couldst never speak, nor others be!Yet (for the book is not more innocentOf what the gazer’s eyes makes so intent),She will but smile, perhaps, that I find my fairSufficing…

Francis Thompson

From Hugo’s ‘Feuilles d’Automne’.

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

Up to the mountain’s summit, in the presence of the skies?Was’t on the borders of the South? or on the Bretagne coast?And at the basis of the mount had you the Ocean tossed?And there, leaned o’er the wave and o’er the immeasurableness,Calm, silent, have you harkened what it says? Lo, what it says!One day at…

Francis Thompson

What shall I your true-love tell,

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

What shall I your true-love tell,When life’s spectre’s laid?‘Tell him that, our side the grave,Maid may not conceiveLife should be so sad to have,That’s so sad to leave!’What shall I your true-love tell,When I come to him?What shall I your true-love tell–Eyes growing dim!‘Tell him this, when you shall partFrom a maiden pined;That I see…

Francis Thompson

Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play;

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

And some are sung, and that was yesterday,And some are unsung, and that may be tomorrow.Go forth; and if it be o’er stony way,Old joy can lend what newer grief must borrow:And it was sweet, and that was yesterday,And sweet is sweet, though purchased with sorrow.Go, songs, and come not back from your far way:And…

Francis Thompson

A boy’s young fancy taketh love

Byammarkhan May 10, 2020May 10, 2020

A boy’s young fancy tasteth moreThe rind, than the deific core.Ah, Sweet! to cast away the slipsOf unessential rind, and lipsFix on the immortal core, is well;But heard’st thou ever any tellOf such a fool would take for foodAspect and scent, however good,Of sweetest core Love’s orchards grow?Should such a phantast please him so,Love where…

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