Poems by Francis THOMPSON read by Various | Full Audio Book

dedication to Wilfred and Alice my Nell by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by christine layman if the rose in meek duty may dedicate humbly to her grower the beauty wherewith she is calmly if the mind to the miner the jewels that pined in it earth to diviner the springs he divined in it to the grapes the wine pitcher their juice that was crushed in it the old to it switcher the music lay hushed in it if the lips may pay gladness and laughters she wakened and the heart to its sadness weeping unslaked if the hid and sealed coffer whose having not his is to the losers may proffer their finding here this is their lives if all livers to the life of all living to you oh dear givers I give your own giving and of poem this recording is in the public domain love and Diane's lap before her portrait in youth by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Amelia Chesley one before her portrait in youth as lovers banished from their ladies face and hopeless of her grace fashion a ghostly sweetness in its place fondly adorn some stealth one caste attire she wore a kerchief or a glove and that the lovers back into the glove their fleets the hand or at impetuous command up from the kerchief floats the virgin neck so I in very lonely head of love to shyly reverencing to let one thoughts like footfall smooth tread near the living consecrated thing treasure me that I cast youth this out or investor tenantless of thee have yet my knee for that with show and semblance fare the past her who wants the beautiful discarded raiment bear it cheated me as Gayle to Gayle drifts breath of blossoms death so dropping down the years from hour to hour this dead youth sent his wafted me today I sit and from the fragrance dream the flower so then she looked I say and so her front sunk down heavy beneath the poet's iron crown on her mouth Musil sweet even as the twin lips meet did thought and sadness greet sighs in those mournful eyes so put on visibilities as beuliss ether turns in deep on deep to dies thus long ago she kept her meditative paces though through Maiden Meads with wavered shadow and gleam of locks half lifted on the winds of dream till love up caught her to his chariots glow yet voluntary happier Proserpine this drooping flower of youth i lettest fall i faring in the shot light astray find on my lated way and stoop and gather for a memorial and lay it on my bosom and make it mine to this the all of love the stars allow me I dedicate and vow me I reach back through the days a truth tends to the dead the last Trump shall not raise the water race that cries from those eternal sorrows of thy picture dies and twines and draws me down there soundless intricacies end of poem this recording is in the public domain love and Diane's lap to a poet breaking silence by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Amelia Chesley to to a poet breaking silence to wearily had we and song been left to look and left too long a song and we too long and look since fine acquainted feet forsook the mountain where the muses him for Sinai and the Seraphim now in both the mountains shine dressed thy countenance twice divine from Moses and the muses draw the tables of thy double law is rod born fountain cast Ali let the one rock bring forth for thee renewing so from either spring the songs which both thy country sing or we shall fear lest heaven thus long thou should forget thy native song and Mar thy immortal melodies with broken stammer of the sky I'll let the sweet birds of the Lord with Earth's waters make a chord teach how the crucifix may be carving from the laurel tree fruit of the house varieties burnished take on Eden trees the muses sacred grove be wet with the red do of all event and Sappho lay her burning brows in white Cecilia's lap of snows their childhood must have felt the stings of to divine are shadowing 'he's this odorous heart have been a blossom that in darkness did unbosom those fireflies of God to invite burning spirits which by night bear upon their laden wing to such hearts impregnating for flowers that night wings fertilize mock down the Stars and steady eyes and with a happy sleepless glance gazed the moon out of countenance I think that girl Hood's Watchers must have took thy fall did songs on trust and felt them as one feels the stir of still lightnings in the hair when conscious hush expects the cloud to speak the golden secret loud which tacit air is privy to blast in the grape the wine they knew ere thy poet mouth was able for its first young starry Babel keeps though not yet that subtle grace yea in this silent interspace God sets his poems in my face the loom which mortal verse affords out of weak and mortal words well-versed though they singing read in to a rune of thy far Eden vain are all disguises heavenly incognita I mean be read through that wrong the great Iranian house of song as the vintages of earth taste of the Sun that riped their birth we know what never cadence Sun by lamp at clusters throbbed upon what plumed feet the winepress trod by wine is flavor as of God whatever singing robe that way has the paradisal air and some gold feather it has kept shows what floor it lately swept end of poem this recording is in the public domain love and Diane's lap manners an imam picks it by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by the Melia Chesley three manners on Imam pink sit lady who holds on me Dominion within your spirits arms I stay me fast against the fell and mitigate ravening of the gates of hell and claim my right and new most hardly one of chaste fidelity upon the chaste hold me and hold by me lest both should fall Oh and high escalate high companion even in the breach of heavens assaulted wall like to a wind sown sapling grow eye from the Clift sweet of your skyward jetting soul shook by all gusts that sweep it overcome by all its clouds incumbent Oh be true to your soul dearest as my life to you for if that soil grows sterile then the whole of me must shrivel from the topmost shoot of climbing posy and my life killed through dry down and perished to the foodless root sweet summer unto you the swallow drew by secret instincts in appeasable that did direct him well Lord from his gelug north which wrought him wrong winter doff sunning song by happy instincts in appeasable yes that led him well Lord to the untried regions and the new climes of auspicious you to Twitter there and in his singing dwell but ah if you my summer should grow waste with grieving skies or caste for such migration my poor wing was strong but once it has no power to fare again forth over the heads of men nor other summers for its sanctuary but from your minds chilled sky it needs must drop and lieth stiffened wings among your souls for Lorna's things a speck upon your memory alack a dead fly in a dusty window crack oh they're for you who are what words being to such mysteries as raiment to the body is should rather hide and tell chaste an intelligential love whose form is as a growth hushed with the cooing of an unseen dove whose spirit to my touch thrills pure farther than is the tingling of a silver bell whose body other ladies well might bear and soul yeh which at profanation were for all but you to take as fleshly wolf being spirit truest proof whose spirit sure is lineal to that which say magnificant chased us and such you are take this curved spirit of mine with your own eyes invest with light divine for lofty love and high auxiliar in daily exalt and prize which out soars mortal eyes this soul which on your soul is laid as maids breast against breast of maid beholding how your own have engraved on it and with what purging thoughts I have lived this love of mine from all mortality indeed the copy is a painful one and with long labor done oh if you doubt the thing you are lady come then and look in me your beauty Diane dress and contemplate within a pool to die and consecrate unveil this spirit lady when you will for unto all but you to veil it still unveil and fearless gaze there you alone and if you love the image tis your own end of poem this recording is in the public domain love and Diane's lap a carrier song by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Amelia Chesley for a carrier song one since you have waned from us fairest of women I am a darkened cage long cannot him in my songs have followed you like birds the summer bring them back to me swiftly dear cover Seraphim her to him might leave their portals and at my feet learn the harping of mortals to wear wings to rustle use but this poor terrier searching my spirits eaves find I for carrier I'll bring them back to me swiftly sweet comer swift swift and bring with you songs Indian summer Seraphim her to him might leave their portals and at my feet learned the harping of mortals three where so your angel is my angel goeth I am left guardian less paradise knoweth I have no heaven left to weep my wrongs to heaven when you went from us went with my songs to Seraphim her to him might leave their portals and at my feet learn the harping of mortals for I have no Angels left now sweet to pray to where you have made your shrine they are away too they have struck heaven's tent and gone to cover you where so you keep your state heaviness pitched or you Seraphim her to him might leave their portals and at my feet learned the harping of mortals five she that is heavens queen her title borrows for that she pitiful Bharath our sorrows so thou Regina me space in for moorim with all our grieving crowned mater de lorem Seraphim her to him might leave their portals and at my feet learned the harping of mortals six yet envious coveter of others grieving this lonely longing yet escape with your reeving cruel to take from a sinner his heaven thank you with contrite smiles to be forgiven Seraphim her too might leave their portals and at my feet learned the harping of mortals seven penitent give me back angels and heaven render your stolen self and be forgiven how frontier heaven from you for my soul praise sweet still to your face in heaven heaven in your face sweet Seraphim her to him might leave their portals and at my feet learn the harping of mortals end of poem this recording is in the public domain love in Diane's Lac Scala Chicopee porta Hibernia by Francis Thompson Redford librivox.org by Amelia Chesley v Scala jacob' Porta Eber Nia her soul from Earth to heaven lies like the latter of the vision whereon go to and fro in Ascension and Domitian star flecked feat of paradise now she is drawn up for me all my angels what I'd tryst full gaze from grape heavens gate like pent children very wistful but below a playmate see dream dispensing face of hers I report which loosed upon me wings i whisked whose amethyst trepidations have forgone me Esper's fill me traffickers end of column this recording is in the public domain love in Diane black gilded gold by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Amelia Chesley six gilded gold though dust too rich attire a grace to let it deck itself with thee and teach us pomp strange cunning ways to be thought simplicity but lilies stolen from grassy moun no more curl at state unfold translated to a vase of gold in burning throne though they keep still serenity Zhun thawed and chill therefore I'll be at our stately so in stately estate that we used to go though jewels should phosphoric burn through those night waters of thine hair a flower from its translucent urn poured silver flame more lunar fare these futile trappings but recall degenerate worshippers who fall in perfect curdle and Brigade to peril the white mother made for as her image stood arrayed in vests of its self substance wrought to measure of the sculptors thought slurred by those added bravery's so for thy spirit did devise its makers seemly garniture of its own essence parcel pure from grave simplicity's address and reticent demure anuses and love and tinctured with a reserve which the wove investor should subservience tents should show the souls habiliments therefore i say that art fair even so but better fare I used to know the violent would thy dusk hair deck with graces like thine own unsought at such place with days and records simple lowly rustic thought for so advanced deer to be it would unlearn humility yet do not with an altered look in these weak numbers read rebuke which are but jealous lest too much God's masterpiece thou should Street uh CH wear a sweetness is complete ad not sweet son to the sweet or as thou wilt for others so in unfamiliar richness go but keep for mine acquainted eyes the fashions of the paradise end of poem this recording is in the public domain love and Diane's lap her portrait by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Amelia Chesley 7 her portrait oh but the heavenly grammar did I hold of that high speech which angels tongues turned gold so should her deathless beauty take no wrong praised in her own great Kindred's fit and cognate tongue or if that language yet with us abode which atom in the garden talked with God but our untempered speech descends poor Ayres grimy and rough-cast still from babbles bricklayers curse on the brutish jargon we inherit strong but too damned not memorize a spirit a cheek a lip a limb a bosom they move with like ease in speech of working day and women we do use to praise even so but here the gates we burst and to the temple go their praise were heard dispraise who dare who dare adulate the seraphim for their burning hair how if with them I dared here should I dare it how praise the woman who but know the spirit how praise the color of her eyes uncaught while they were colored with her burying thought how her mouth shape who only used to know what tender shape her speech will fit it to or her lips redness when they're jointed Vale songs fervid hand has parted to it or them pale if I would praise her soul temir arias if all must be mystery in hieroglyph heaven which not often his prodigal of its more to singers in their song too great before by which the higher arc of large posy is restrained to his once sacred benefits only for her the salutary are relaxes and stern Canon of its law to her alone concedes pluralities in her alone to reconcile agrees the muse the graces and the charities to her who can the trust so well conduct to her it gives the use to us the use of record what of the dear administers then may I other though I spoke her own carved perfect way what of her daily gracious converse known whose heavenly despotism must needs to throne and subjugate all sweetness but its own deep in my heart subsides the infrequent word and there dies slowly throbbing like a wounded bird what of her silence that out sweeten speech what of her thoughts high marks for mine own thoughts to reach yet Chaucer's antique sentence so to turn most gladly will she teach and gladly learn and teaching her by her enchanting art the master threefold learns for all he can impart now all is said and all being said I me there yet remains unsaid the very she nay to conclude so to conclude I dare if of her virtues you evade the snare then for her faults you'll fall in love with her alas and I have spoken of her Muse her muse that died with her or Oriole dews learned the wise cherubim from harps of gold sedusa trepidation music manifold but the superior Seraphim do no none other music but to flame and glow so she first lighted on our frosty earth a sad musician of cherubic birth playing to alien ears which did not prize the incomprehensible Aires of her far paradise but soon from her own heart bangs taking fire in love and light her melodies expire now heaven affords her for her silenced him a double portion of the Seraphim at the rich odors from her heart that rise my soul remembers its lost paradise and antenatal gales blow from Heaven's shores of spice I grow essential all uncloaking me from this encumbering virility and feel the primal sex of heav'n and poetry and parting from her in me linger on vague snatches of Urania antiphon how to the petty prison could she shrink of femininity nay but I think in a dear courtesy her spirit would woman assume for grace to womanhood or vote arrest to the Virgin Sancta tude of reticent withdrawals sweet courted pale she took the cloister all flesh the sexual veil of her sad Aboriginal sisterhood the habit of cloister of flesh which founding even dude thus do I know her but for what men call beauty the loveliness corporeal its most just praise a thing on proper were to sing or to listener me or her she wears that body but as one in dues a robe hath careless for it is the use although her soul and its so fair agree we sure may unattained of heresy conceit it might the soul's beginner be the immortal could Reese's to contemplate the mortal part suggests its every trait God laid his fingers on the ivories of her pure members as on smooth at keys and their out breathe her spirits harmonies I'll speak a little proudly I disdain to count the beauty worth my wish or gaze which the dole daily fool can covet or obtain I do confess the fairness of the spoil but from such rivalry it takes a soil for her I'll proudly or speak how could it be that I should praise the gilding on the psaltery tis not for her to hold that prize a prize or praise much praise though proudest in it's wise to which even hopes of merely women rise such strife would to the vanquished laurels yield against her suffered to have lost a field herself must with herself be soul compared unless the people of her distance fearsome gold migration send to mela ties the year but first our hearts must burn in larger guys to Reformation charitable skies and so the deathless plumage to acclimatize since this their soul congener in our clime droops her sad ruffled thoughts for half the during time yet I have felt what terror is making sort in women's cheeks the grace is soft resort my hand hath shook at gentle hands access and trembled at the waving of a dress my blood known panic fear and fled dismayed where ladies eyes have set their amorous Cade the rustle of a rope hath been to me the very rattle of love's musketry although my heart hath beat the loud advance I have recoiled before a challenging glance proved gay alarms where warlike ribbing stands and from it all this knowledge have I got the whole that others have is less than they have not all which makes other women noted fare unnoted would remain and / shown in her how should i gauge what beauty is her dull who cannot see her countenance for her soul as birds see not the casement for the sky and asked his check they prove its presence by I know not of her body till I find my flight debarred the heaven of her mind hers is the face when Saul should copied be did God make replicas of such as she its presence felt by what it does abate because the soul shines through tempered and mitigate where as a figure in labouring at night beside the body of a splendid light dark time works hidden by its luminousness and every line he Labor's to impress turns added beauty like the veins that run a thwart a leaf which hangs against the Sun there Regent melancholy wide controls there earth and heaven love play for our ills their sweetness out of sadness brings and fits like bubbles on dark water or as flicks a sudden silver fin through its deep infinities their amorous thought has sucked pale fancies breath and tenderness it's looking toward the lands of death they're feeling stills her breathing with her hand and dreamed from melancholy part rests the wand on this lady's heart looked you so deep for poetry has rocked himself to sleep upon the heavy blossom of her lips hangs the bemusing and I heard lead eclipsed each half occulted star beneath that lies and in the contemplation of those eyes passionless passion wild tranquility end of poem this recording is in the public domain love and Diane's lap epilogue by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Amelia Chesley epilogue to the poet sitter wherein he excuses himself for the manner of the portrait alas now wilt thou hide and say I deem my figure descant hides this simple theme or in another wise reproving say I L observe thine own high reticent way oh pardon that I testify of thee but thou couldst never speak nor others be yet for the book is not more innocent of what the gazers eyes make so intent she will but smile perhaps that I find my fair sufficing scope in such strait theme as her bird of the Sun the Stars wild honeybee is your gold browsing done so thoroughly or sinks a single wing to narrow nest in me thus you might say for not this lowly vein out deprecates her deprecating strain o you mistake dear lady quite nor no ether was strict as you its loftiness as lo the heavens do not advance their majesty over their march beyond his empery the engines of the wind are not unfurled his reign is hoped in by the pale of the world tis not the continent but the contained that plesaunce makes or prison loose or chained to much alike or little captives me for all oppression his captivity what groweth to its height demands no higher the limit limits not but the desire give but my spirit its desired scope a giant in a pismire I not grope deny it and an ant with all my back a firmament to the sky Eve alterable crack our minds make their own term and I nor call the issuing circumscription as great or small so high constructing nature lessons to us all who optics gives accommodate to see your continents largest looks the Sun to be and distant greatness less than mere humanity we therefore with sure instinctive mind and the equal spaciousness of find in confines far or near of air or our own kind our looks and longings which affront the Stars most richly bruised against their golden bars delighted captives of their flaming Spears find a restraint restrain less which appears as that is and so simply natural in you the fair detention freedom call and over scroll with fancies the loved prison wall such sweet captivity and only such in you as in those golden bars we touch our gazes for sufficing limits no the firmament above your face below our longings are contented with the skies contented with the heaven and your eyes my restless wings that beat the whole world through flag on the confines of the Sun and you and find the human pale remoter of the to end of poem this recording is in the public domain to the dead Cardinal of Westminster by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Sonia to the dead Cardinal of Westminster I will not pursue obey thy paradisal state with praise of thy dead days to the new heaven say spirit thou wert fine clay this to die praise who knew therefore my spirit clings heavens porta by the wings and holds it skated goals apart with tea to press a private business when stay me audience anchorite who didst well with all the world for sell my soul round me does roll a sec astray ssin bear too far like we were too far dissimilar for it's burning fruit each I to climb the tree of the sky do price some human eyes you smell to heaven blossoms and all the Sweden bosoms the dear Iranian year whose eyes my weak gaze shuns which to the sons our sons did not afraid your lid the carpet was let down with golden moldings thrown for you of angels blue but X paradise the shoulder of your christ find high to lean thereby so flaps my helpless sail belying with neither gale of heaven nor orcas even life is a caca tree of death which rear is me too sure of diem or a tiring room where I dust diverse garments try till fit some fashion sit it seemeth me too much I do rehearse for such a mean and single scene the sandy glass hands bare and teak remembrancer my veins to spare its pains with secret sympathy my thoughts repeating me infirmed the turn of the worm beneath my appointed sod the grave is in my blood I shake to winced at take its grasses by the top the rains there on that drop perturb with drip aserp my subtly answering soul the feed across its null do jar me from afar as sap for tests the spring as earth ear blossoming thrills with far daffodils and feels her breasts turn sweet with the unconcealed wheat so does my flesh for loathe the abhorred spring of this with ceasing presences affirm the preparatory when at the last I die shall reach to gain your speech but you should that be so may very well I know may well to me in hell with recognizing eyes look from your paradise God bless thy hopelessness call holy soul o call the hosts Angelica and say see far away lies one I saw on earth once triggered from his birth with curse of destiny verse what place that he is serve for such sad spirit reserved given in Doug Lee you of heaven the impeachable demon beauty to adore and dream on to be perpetually hearse but she never his he Reapers miseries for knows his wages woes he lives detached days he service not for prays for gold he is not def is c2 world's tongue he scorned us for his song the loud shouts of the crowd he asked us not words eyes not two words ears he cries says DS shut if you please he measures world's pleasure world's ease as Saints might measure for higher just love and tire he asks not grudging pain and knows his ask in vain and cries love love and dies in garden of long duty unknown by love of beauty and goes telltale who knows aliens from heavens worth fine beasts who knows in the earth do their reward prepare but I his great desires food but for nether fires army a mystery can it be his alone to find when all is known that what he solely sought is lost and there too lost all that it's seeking cost that he must finally through sacrificial tears and anchor attic years tryst with the sensualist so ask and if they tell the secret terrible good friend I pray thee send some high gold a message to teach my unripe age tell lest my feet walk hell end of poem this recording is in the public domain a fallen you by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Amelia Chesley a fallen you it seemed Coralville of the world's great prime made to uh nejd the site of time and last with stateliest rhyme no tender Dryad ever didn't do that rigid tighten of ruff you to fret her white flesh through but some godlike to those grim Asgard lords who walk the fables of the hordes from Scandinavian Fords upheaved stubborn girth and raised on ribbon against the world blast on eleven defiant arms to heaven when doom puffed out the Stars we might have said it would decline its heavy head and see the world to bed for this firm you did from the basil leaves and rain and air its tributaries its revenues increase and levy imposed on the Golden Sun take the blind years as they might run and no fate see caution but now are you is struck is fallen yeh hacked like dole would of everyday to this and that men say never to Hades shadowy shipyards gone dim barge of dist down Acheron it drops or leafy wan stirred by its fall poor destined bark of dis along my soul a bruit there is of echoing images reverberations of mortality spelt backwards from its death to me it's life reads saddened ly its breast was hollowed as the tooth of LT and boys there creeping on beheld a laughing moment dwelt yet they within its very heart so crept reached not the heart that courage kept with winds and years be swept and in its boughs did close unkindly nests to the birds as they within its breast by all its leaves caressed but bird nor child might touch by any art each others or the trees hid heart a whole God's breadth apart the breath of God he breadth of death and life even so even so in undreamed strife with pulseless law the wife the sweetest wife on sweetest marriage day their souls that grapple in Midway sweet to her sweet may say I take you to my inmost heart my true a fool but there is one heart you shall never take him to the hold that falls not when the town has got the hearts heart whose immured plucked hath keys yourself keep not its ports you cannot burst you are withstood for him that too you're listening blood sends precepts as he would its gates are deaf to love high summoner yeh loves great warrant runs not there you are your prisoner yourself are with yourself the soul can sort rest in that unli durable fortress it knows you not for portress its keys are at the sink sure hung of God its gates are TripIt into his not by him its floors are trod and if his feet shall rock those floors in wrath or blessed aspersion sleek his path his only choice it had yeh in that ultimate hearts occult abode to lie as in an ovule that of God or as a bower untrod built by a secret lover for his spouse sole choice is this your life allows sad tree whose perishing boughs so a few birds house end of poem this recording is in the public domain dream dressed by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Amelia Chesley dream tryst the breaths of kissing night and day were mingled in the eastern heaven throbbing with unheard melody shook alehrer all its star chord 7 when dusk shrunk cold and light troth I and Dawn's gray eyes were troubled gray and souls went pale II up the sky and mine to lose a day there was no change in her sweet eyes since last I saw those sweet eyes shine there was no change in her deep heart since last that deep heart knocked at mine her eyes were clear her eyes were hopes wherein did ever come and go the sparkle of the fountain drops from her sweet soul below the chambers in the house of dreams are fed with so divine an air the times whore wings grow young therein and they who walk there on most fair I enjoyed for me I enjoyed for her who with the past meet girl about where our last kiss still warms the air nor can her eyes go out and of pelham this recording is in the public domain akka Roombas for autumn by Francis Thompson dreadful librivox.org by Anusha ire her can match aunt tis as a pecan tease a grape spurt a vine splash a toast tress flown want tis suffer my singing gypsy of seasons ere thou go winging air winter throws his slaking snows in thy feasting flagons in popular to close the soft Sun Topa as ever drank hard stares foolish hazed rubicund dazed Tati with thine October tankard tanned made with cheeks like apples russet and breast a brown egg Eric faint flushing at tip and a mouth to read for the moon to bus it but her Chi and vow its vessel ship thy mists and clip her steely clear circuit aluminous until it crusts religionists with the glorious gills of a glowing rust far other saw be other indeed the crescent moon in the Mayday is dead fly up with its slender white wings spread out of its nest in the Seas waved Mead how are the veins of the autumn laden cumbered juices and pulpit uses Pappy out of the cherry bruises froth the veins of the wild wild maiden with hair that masters in global clusters in tumbling clusters like swarthy grapes round eyebrow and nine ears over Shaden with the burning darkness of eyes like pansies like velvet pansies we're through escapes the splendid might of thy confer great fancies with robe gold tawny not hiding the shapes of the feet where unto it falls down die naked feet and sandal it with robe gold tawny that does not veil feet where the red is meshed in the brown like a ruby dee son in a Venice sail though was sailors heart of the yard is dying his backache fingers dissing twined his coronal at thy festival his reveling fingers dissing twine leaf flower and all and let them fall blossom and all in thy wavering wine the summer looks out from her brazen tower through the flashing bars of July waiting thy ripened golden shower wear off there cometh with sandals fleet the Northwest flying view lessly with asswad to share and untamable feet and the Gorgon head of the winter shown to stiffen the gazing earth a stone in Crystal heavens magic sphere poised in the palm of their hand thou seest the enchanted shows appear that stain for Vani informant richer than ever the Occident gave up to bygone summers warned days dying dragon lies drooping his crest panting red pants into the West or the butterfly sunset claps its wings with flitter a lit on the swinging blossom the gusty blossom that tosses and swings of the sea with its blown and ruffled bosom its ruffled bosom we're through the wind sings till the crisp red petals are loosened and strong overblown on the sand shed curling as dead rose leaves curl on the Fleck it strand or higher holy o saintly when as now all nature's Sakura tell seems and thou the calm hour strikes on yon golden Gong in tones of floating and mellow light a spreading summons to even song see how there the colored night kneels on the eastern sanctuary stare what is this feel of incense everywhere clings it round Falls of the blanch amidst clouds up wafted by the solemn therfore the mighty spirit unknown that swing at the slow earth before the M bannered throne or is it the season under all these shrouds of light and sense and silence makes her known a presence everywhere and in articulate prayer a hand on the soothe tresses of the air but there is one our scant of this Titanian primal liturgy as there is but one hour for me in thee autumn for the ensign Hierophant of this grave ending chant round the earth still and stark heavens death lights kindle yellow spark by spark beneath the dreadful catafalque of the dark and I had ended there but a great wind blew all stars to flare and cried I sweep the path before the moon tarry ye now the coming of the moon for she is coming soon then died before the coming of the moon and she came forth upon the trĂªpa dn't heir investor an imagined fare woven as wolf of flag lilies and curdled as of flag lilies the vapor at the feet of her and a haze about her tinged in fainter wise as if she had trodden the Stars and press till the gold wine spotted over her dress till the gold wine gushed out round her feet spouted over her stain away and bubbled in golden froth at her feet and hung like a whirlpools mist round her still mighty season do I see it dice way is still majestical thou holdest of God by title shaw thine indefeasible investiture and that right round thy locks a native to the heavens upon thy brow imperial this huge Terran die born and oh they shoulders thrown wide as depending Paul what if thine earth be Blair and bleak of hue still still a skies a sweet still season still thou hast thy triumph there how have I unaware forgetful of my strain inaugural cleft the great Rondo of thy reign complete yielding the half who has indeed the oil I will think thigh sovereignity begun but with the Shepherd's son that washes and the see the stars gold fleeces or that with day it ceases who sets his burning lips to the salt brine and purples it to wine while I behold how L mind artemius ordained ed weed must wear and toil I business who witness Emma for her to an autumn turned of integer and laden with its lamp it clusters bright the fiery fruited vineyard of this night end of poem this recording is in the public domain the house of heaven by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Tony Addison I fled him down the Knights and down the days I pled him down the arches of the years I've led him down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind and in the mist of tears I hid from him and under running laughter up visted hopes I sped and shot precipitated a Down Titanic glooms of chasms fears from those strong feet that followed followed after but with unhurried chase and unperturbed pace deliberate speed majestic instance II they beat and a voice beat more instant than the feet all things betrayed the who betrayus me I pleaded outlaw wise by many a hearted casement curtain dread trellis with intertwining charities for though I knew his love who followed yet was I saw a dread lest having in I must have not beside but if one little casement parted wide the gust of his approach would crush it to fear was not to evade as love whisked to pursue across the merchants of the world I fled untroubled the gold gateways of the Stars smiting for shelter under changing bars fretted to dulcet jars and Sylvan chatter the pale pots of the moon I said to dawn be sudden to Eve be soon would the young sky blossoms heap me over from this tremendous lover followed by vague veil about me lest he see i tempted all his servitors but to find my own betrayal in their constancy in faith to him their fickleness to me that treacherous trueness and their loyal deceit to all swift things for swiftness did i su clung to the whistling mane of every wind but whether they swept smoothly fleet the lungs of vanna's of the blue or whether thundered driven they planned his chariots what a heaven plushy with flying lightnings round the spurn of the the fear was not to evade as love whisk to pursue still with unerring chase and unperturbed pace deliberate speed majestic instance II came on the following feet and a voice above their beat not shelters thee who will not shout to me I sought no more that after which I strayed in face of man or maid but still within the little children's eyes seems something something that replies they at least up for me surely for me I turned to me to them very wistfully but just as their young eyes grew sudden fair with dawning answers there the angel plucked them from me by the hair come then ye other children nature's share with me said I your delicate bolo ship let me greet you lip to lip let me join you with caresses wanton engaging mothers vagrant tresses banqueting with her in her wind walled palace underneath her Asia dais quaffing as your tankless way is from a chalice Lucent weeping out of the day spring so it was done I in that delicate fellowship was warm to the boat of nature secrecy's I knew all the Swift importing on the willful face of skies I knew how the clouds arise spew Medan of the wild sea snortings all that's born or dies rose and drooped with made them shapers of mine own moods or well full or divine with them joyed and was bereavement I was heavy with the even when she let her glimmering tapers around the days dead sanctities I laughed in the mornings eyes I triumph and I saddened with all whether heaven and I wept together and it's sweet tears were soaked with mortal mine against the red throb of its sunset heart I laid my own to beat and share commingling heat but not by that by that was eased my human smart in vain my tears were wet on heaven's great cheek for we know not what each other says these things and I in sound I speak their sound is but their stir they speak by silences nature post up damn cannot slake my drew let her if she would owe me drop yawn blue bosom bale of sky and show me the breast to her tenderness never did any milk of hers once bless my questing mouth nigh and nine draws the chase with unperturbed face deliberate speed majestic instance II and past those noisy feet a voice comes yet more fleet lo not content thee who can tensed not me naked I wait I loves uplifted stroke my harness piece by piece thou hast hewn from me and smitten me Germany I am defenseless utterly I slept methanks and woke and slowly gazing find me script in sleep in the rush lost the head of my young powers I shook the pillar in hours and pulled my life upon me grind with smears I stand amid the dust of the mounted years my mangled youth night dead beneath II my days have crackled and gone up in smoke have puffed and burst a Sun starts on a stream yay faileth now even dream the dreamer and the loot the lutenist even the linked fantasies in whose blossom ik twist I swung the earth a trinket at my rest are yielding cords of all to weak account for Earth with heavy groups so / + ah is thy love indeed a weed now Bearden amaranthine weed suffering no flowers except its own to mount a must designer infinite must doubt cha the wood now thou canst limb with it my freshness spent its wavering shower is the dust and now my heart is as a broken plant were in tear dripping stagnate spelt down ever from the dunk thoughts that Shiva upon the cyfle branches of my mind such is what is to be the Pope so bitter how shall taste the rhyme I dimly guess what time in mists confounds yet ever under none a trumpet sounds from the head battlements of eternity though shaken mists a space unsettle then round the half dome said turret slowly wash again but not air him who summon earth I first have seen and wound with grooming robes burial cypress crown his name I know and what his trumpet sayeth whether man's heart or light it'd be which yields the harvest must die harvest fields be done with rotten death now up that long pursuit comes on at hand the brute that voice is around me like a bursting sea and is thy earth so mod shattered in shot unshod low all things fly thee for thou fly as me strange piteous beautiful thing wherefore should any set the love apart seeing none but fine makes much of note he said and human love needs human meriting how ask them merited of all man's clotted clay the dingy asclad a lack the knowest not how little worthy of any love thou art whom will power find to love ignoble thee save me save only me o which I took from the I did but take not for thy harms but just that thou might seek it in my arms o which like child's mistake fan says as lost I have stored by the atoll rise clasp my hand and come Hulk's by me that football is my gloom after all shade of his hand outstretched caressingly a Ponder's blind as weakest I am he whom thou seekest thou greatest love from the food ravers me end of poem this recording is in the public domain a judgment in heaven by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Anusha I are at war the sword which is trading for God the poet paced with his splendid eyes paradise video he stately passes to win to the father of paradise through the conscious and palpitant grasses of intertangled reliefs and dies the angels are play on its fields of summer their wild wings rustled his guides sigh Mars looked up from the spot at the passing corner as they pelted each other with handfuls of stars and the warden spirits with startled feet rose hand on sward by their tethered cars with blooms Knight tinctured and globe and sink chewed off Saints his guided steps held on to where on the far crystalline pale of that trance stellar heaven there Shawn the immutable crucian Don a fusing from the Father's throne through the reverent Eden ways the brute of his great Advent driven back from the fog and jostle and press with mighty echoing so was given as when the surly thunder smites upon the clang gate gates of heaven over the bickering gone felons far ranged as for Tartarian wars went a waiver of ribbit fire as night seized on phosphoric bars like a flame plumed fans shake slowly out there ready reach of crumbling stars at length to wear on his fretted throne sat in the heart of his aged dominions the great triune and merry nigh litter out with Spears of their Hobart minions the poet drew in the thunderous blue to involve it dread of those mounted pinions as in a secret and tenebrous cloud the water from the disquiet earth at momentary intervals be holes from its ragged rifts break forth the flash of a golden perturbation the travelling threat of a which it birth tell heavily parts a sinister chasm a grizzly jaw whose verges soon slowly and ominously filled by the oncoming plenty loon support lessly congest with fire and suddenly spit forth the moon with Beauty not terror through tangled era of night dipped plumes so burned their charge swayed and parted the globing clusters so disclosed from their kindling March Rosal chaplet 'add splendid the rest should the singer there where God's light lay large who who a wonder a wonder see clasping the singers glories clings a dingy creature even to laughter cloaked and clad in patchwork things shrinking clothes from the unused close of the seraphs mercy coloured wings a rhymer rhyming of youtai rhyme he had crept for convoy through Eden ways into the shade of the poet's glory darkened under his prevalent rays fearfully hoping a distant welcome as a poor kinsman of his lays the angels laughed with a lovely scorning who has done the sorry deed in the garden of a father God made his blossoms to sew this weed in never our fingers knew the stuff not so fashion the looms of Eden the thing about his brow majestic searching that patchwork through and through feeling God's loosened gazes traverse his singing strolling and spear to the hallowed Harper's were fain to frown on the strange thing come made their sacred crew only the singer that was earth his fellow earth and his own self knew but the poet rent of robe and wreath so as a slowing serpent death laid them at the rhymers feet shed down wreaths and raiment both stood in a dim and shame and stole like the tattered wing of a musty moth the weed and wreath of song the weed and wreath are solely thine and this dishonest vesture is the only vesture that is mine the life I textured thou the song my handicraft is not divine he rested or the rhyme was head that garment in which wrought him wrong a flickering tissue Argentine down dripped its shivering Silver's long better thou wouldest thou woof of life then thou dearest we've died woof of song never achieve in st. dome was but turned him from the poet then never and I looked mild on him made all the angel myriads ten save sinless merry and sinful merry the merry titled Magdalene turn yon robe spake Magdalene of torn bright song and see and feel they turned the raiment saw and felt what they are turning did reveal all the inner surface piled with bloodied hairs like hairs of Steel take I pray yon chaplet up thrown down muddied from his head they took the roseola chaplet up and they stood astonished every leaf between their fingers as they bruised it burst and bled see his torn flesh through those rents see the punctures round his hair as if the chaplain flowers had driven deep roots in to nourish their Lord who gave esteem robbing trees what was this Dow gave us for we're fed forth the paradise of God spake the father sweet and low drew them both by the frightened hand where Mary's throne made iris bow take Princess Mary of thy good grace to spirits greater than they know end of poem this recording is in the public domain epilogue by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org a sin turn in the wards of heaven as ethics of the text book go so little men their own deeds no or through the intricate mail a guess whither Ward draws the battle sway so little if they know the deed discern what they're from shall succeed to wisest moralist tis but given to work rough border law of heaven within this narrow life of ours these marches twixt D limitless powers is it if heaven the future showed is it the all Severus mode to see ourselves with the eyes of God God rather grant at his ass eyes he see us not with our own eyes heaven which man's generations draws nor deviates into replicas must of as deep diversity in judgment as creation V there is no expeditious road to pack and label men for God and save them by the barrel load some May perchance with strange surprise have blundered into paradise in vasty dusk of life abroad they fondly thought to err from God nor knew the circle that they trod and wandering all the night about found them at morn where they set out death dawned heaven lay in prospect wide lo they were standing at his side the rhymer a life on complex with just such cares as mortals vex so simply felt as all men feel lived purely out to his soul's wheel a double life the poet lived and with a double burden grieved the life of flesh and life of song the pangs to both lives that belong immortal new and mortal pain who in two worlds could lose and gain and found immortal fruits must be mortal through his mortality the life of flesh and life of song if one life worked the other wrong what expiating agony may for him damned to PO se shut in that little sentence be what deep austerities of strife he lived his life he lived his life end of poem this recording is in the public domain poems on children Daisy by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Anusha I hear where the thistle lifts a purple crown six foot out of the turf and the hair bell shakes on the Windy Hill oh the breadth of the distance surf the hills look over on the south and southward dreams the sea and with the Seabreeze hand in hand came innocence and she where mid the gorse the raspberry red for the gather of Springs two children did we stray and talk wise idle childish things she listened with big lips surprised breast deep mid flower in spine her skin was like a grape whose veins runs no instead of wine she knew not those sweet words she spake nor knew her own sweet way but there's never a bird so sweet a song thronged in whose throat that day oh there are flowers in storing ttan on the turf and on the spray but the sweetest flower on Sussex hills was the daisy flower that day her beauty's smooth Earth's furrowed face she gave me tokens three a look a word of her winsome mouth and a wild raspberry a berry red AG eyeless look a still word strings of sand and yet they made my wild wild heart fly down to her little hand for standing artless as the air and candid as the skies she took the berries with her hand and the love with her sweet eyes the fairest things have fleetest and their scent survives their clothes but the roses scent is bitterness to him that loved the rose she looked a little wistfully then went her sunshine way the Seas I had a mist on it and the leaves fell from the day she went her unremember away she went and left in me the pang of all the partings gone and partings yet to be she left me marveling why my soul was sad that she was glad at all the sadness in the sweet the sweetness in the sad still still I seemed to see her still look up with soft replies and take the berries with her hand and the love with her lovely eyes nothing begins and nothing ends that is not paid with moon for we are born in others pain and perish in our own end of bone this recording is in the public domain the making of viola by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org the father of Heaven read by Matthew dacher in angels read by Anusha Eyre spin daughter Mary spin twirl your wheel with silver din spin daughter Mary spin spin a tress for viola spin Queen Mary a brown dress for viola weave hands and Jellicle weave a wolf for flesh to Paul weave hands and Jellicle flesh to Paul our viola weave singing brothers a velvet flesh for viola scoop young Jesus for her eyes would brown pools of paradise young jesus for the eyes for the eyes of viola tint Prince Jesus a dust kid I for viola cast a star therein to drown like a torch in cavern Brown sink a burning star to drown whelmed in eyes of viola lave Prince Jesus a star in eyes of viola breathe Lord Paraclete to a bubbled crystal means breathe Lord Paraclete crystal soul for viola breathe regal spirit a flashing soul for viola child angels from your wings fall the rozelle hovering z' child angels from your wings on the cheeks of viola linger rosy reflects a quenchless stain on viola all things being accomplished saith the father of heaven bear her down and bearing sing bear her down on spyler swing bear her down and bearing sing with a sound of viola music as her name is a sweet sound of viola wheeling angels past the Spile danced her down the sound of veal wheeling angels past a Spile discounting on viola sing in our footing a lovely loot of viola baby smiled mother wailed earthward while the sweetling sailed mother smiled baby wailed when to earth came viola and her elders shall say so soon have we taught you a way to weep poor viola smile sweet baby smile for you will have weeping while native in your heaven is smile but your weeping viola when's your smiles we know but ah whence your weeping viola our first gift to you is a gift of Tears my viola end of poem this recording is in the public domain child Frances mwm by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by John Burlinson this labouring vast alluring galleon riding at anchor off the Orient Sun had broken its cable and stood out to space down some floor Arctic of the a aerial ways and now back warping from the inclement main its vaporous shrouded drenched with icy rain it swung into its as your roads again when floated on the prosperous Sun Gale you lit a white Halcyon auspice mid our frozen crew to the Sun stranger surely you belong giver of golden days and golden song nor is it by an all unhappy plan you bear the name of me his constant Magian yet ah from any other that it came blessed fated to my fate you be as to my name when at the first those tidings did they bring my heart turned troubled at the ominous thing though well made such a title him in dour for whom a poet's prayer imp laws of power its power the Assyrian who kept plighted faith – 3 – song – Sancta tude and poverty in – alone of whom most singers proved a fatal faithfulness of during love he the sweet solace of whom we scarcely can how God he could more he so loved men the crown and crown of Laura and Italy and Fletcher's fellow from these and not from me take you your name and take your legacy or if a write successive you declare when worms for Ivy's intertwine my hair take but this posy that now followeth my clay hissed with sullen servile breath made then you're happy Friedman by test-taking death my song I do but hold for you and trust I ask you but to blossom from my dust when you have compass all week I began divine a poet and aa divine a man the man at feud with the pattering child in you before songs alter nobly reconciled from the wise heavens I half shall smile to see how little the world which owned you needed me if while you keep the vigils of the night for your wild tears make darkness all too bright some lone orb through your lonely window peeps as it played lover over your sweet sleeps think it a golden crevice in the sky which I have pissed but to behold you buy and when immortal mortal droops your head and you the child of deathless song are dead then as you search with unaccustomed glance the rank the paradise for my countenance turn not your tread along the Iranian sod among the bearded counsellors of God for if in Eden as on earth are we I sure shall keep a younger company Pass where beneath their Ranger gun felons the starrok cohorts shake their shielded sons the dreadful mass of their in rigid spears past swear majestical the eternal peers the stately choice of the great saint to meet a sylvan segregation globe complete in sandaled shadow of the triune feet pass by where wait young poet Wayfarer your cousin's clusters emulous to share with you the rosy lightnings burning mid their hair past the crystalline see the lamp add seven look for me in the nurseries of heaven end of poem this recording is in the public domain the poppy to Monica by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by Anusha a year somerset lip to earth's bosom bear and left the flushed print in a poppy there like a yarn of fire from the grass it came and the Fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame with burnt mouth red like lions it drank the blood of the son as his slaughtered sank and dipped its cup in the popular shine when the eastern conduits ran with wine till it grew lethargy with fierce bliss and hot as a swing gypsy is and roused in sleepy savageries with mouth wide about for a sultry kiss a child and man paced side-by-side treading the skirts of Eventide but between the clasp of his hand in hers lay felt not twenty with her tears she turned with the route of her dusk South hair and saw the sleeping gypsy there and snatched and snapped it in swift child's whim with keep it long as you live to him and his smile as nymphs from their laving mares trembled up from a bath of tears in joy like a musi rocked part tossed on the wave of his troubled heart for he saw what she did not see that as kindled by its own fervency the verge shriveled inward smouldering Lea and suddenly twixt his hand in hers he knew the twenty withered years no flower but twenty shriveled years was never such thing until this hour low to his heart his head the flower of sleep brings wakening to me and of oblivion memory was never this thing to me he said though with bruise it poppies my feet I read and again to his own heart very low Oh child I love for I love and know but you who love nor know at all the diverse chambers in love's guest hall but some razor leaf you sit long in how deferring accents here the throne his great Pentecostal tongue who know not love from Amity nor my report itself from me a fare fit gift is this missings you give this withering flower of dreams Oh frankly fickle and fitly true do you know what the day's will do to you to your love and you what the days will do or frankly fickle and quickly true you have loved me fair three lives or days will pass with the passing of my face but where I go your face goes to to watch lest I play falls to you I am but my sweet your foster lover knowing well when certain years are over you vanish from me to another yet I know and love like the foster mother so frankly fickle and figley true for my brief life while I take from you the Stoke and fair and fit me seems for me this withering flower of dreams the sleep flower sways in the wheat its head heavy with dreams as that with bread the goodly grain and the Sun flushed sleeper the Reaper reaps and time the Reaper I hang mid men my needless head and my frutos dreams as theirs is bread the goodly men and the Sun haze sleeper time shall reap but after the Reaper the world shall glean of me me the sleeper love love your flower with a dream in livid rhyme life safe I deem sheltered and shut in a nook of rhyme from the repo man and his Reaper time love I fall into the claws of time but lasts within the levelled rhyme all that the world of me esteems my wither dreams my withered dreams end of poem this recording is in the public domain annika thought dying by Francis Thompson read for librivox.org by John Burlinson you owe the piteous you who all the long night through anticipated Lee disclose yourself to me already in the ways beyond our human comfortable days how can you deem what death in pitiably saith to me who listening wake for your poor sake when a grown woman dies you know we think unceasingly what things she said how sweet how wise and these do make our misery but you you to me the dead anticipated Lee you 11 years was not also with just a child do you know and so you never said things sweet immediately and wise to interdict from closure my wet eyes but foolish things my dead I did little and laughable your age that fitted well and was it such things all unmemorable was it such things could make me sob all night for your implacable sake yet as you said to me in pretty make-believe of revelry so the night long said death with his magniloquent breath and that remembered laughter which in our daily uses followed after was all unto wound to pity into all a cup of chocolate one farthing is the rate you drink it through a straw how could I know how no those laughing words when drenched with sobbing so another voice than yours than yours he had my dear was worth his breath his mighty utterance yet he saith and sayeth this dreadful death to his own dreadfulness death dreadful wrong this dreadful childish babble on his tongue that I on tongue made to speak sentences and wisdom in supportively complete why should it only say the long night through in mimicry of you the top of chocolate one farthing is the rate you drink it through a straw a straw a straw of all sentences piercingly incomplete why did you teach that fatal mouth to draw child impermissible or from your old trivial nasai I have you done me this most unsustainable wrong and intra deaths control betrayed the secret places of my soul teaching him that his lips uttering their native earthquake and eclipse could never so avail to rend from him to him the ultimate veil of this most solid spirit and leave it stripped and desecrate nay never so have wrung from eyes and speech weakness unmanned unmeet as when his terrible dotage to repeat its little lesson learn a–the at your feet was when he sits among his supporters to play with broken toys your hand has cast away with derelict trinkets of the darling young why have you taught that he might so complete his awful panoply from your cast playthings why this dreadful childish babble to his tongue dreadful and sweet end of poem this recording is in the public domain

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *