The Collected Poetry of Francis Thompson
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In our eReader you can find the full English version of the book. Read The Collected Poetry of Francis Thompson Online - link to read the book on full screen. Our eReader also allows you to upload and read Pdf, Txt, ePub and fb2 books. In the Mini eReder on the page below you can quickly view all pages of the book - Read Book The Collected Poetry of Francis Thompson
What reading level is The Collected Poetry of Francis Thompson book?
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
For who can work, unwitting his work's worth? Better, meseems, to know the work for naught, Turn my sick course back to the kindly earth, And leave to ampler plumes the jetting tops of thought.
And visitations that do often use, Remote, unhappy, inauspicious sense Of doom, and poets widowed of their muse, And what dark 'gan, dark ended, in me did commence.
2H 241 THE CLOUD'S SWAN-SONG I thought of spirit wronged by mortal ills, And my flesh rotting on my fate's dull stake; And how self-scorned ...they the bounty fills Of others, and the bread, even of their dearest, take.
I thought of Keats, that died in perfect time, In predecease of his just-sickening song; Of him that set, wrapt in his radiant rhyme, Sunlike in sea. Life longer had been life too long.
But I, exanimate of quick Poesy, — O then no more but even a soulless corse!
Nay, my Delight dies not; 'tis I should be Her dead, a stringless harp on which she had no force.
Of my wild lot I thought; from place to place, Apollo's song-bowed Scythian, I go on; Making in all my home, with pliant ways, But, provident of change, putting forth root in none.
What to read after The Collected Poetry of Francis Thompson?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Thompson Francis to read onlineMoreLess
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
For who can work, unwitting his work's worth? Better, meseems, to know the work for naught, Turn my sick course back to the kindly earth, And leave to ampler plumes the jetting tops of thought.
And visitations that do often use, Remote, unhappy, inauspicious sense Of doom, and poets widowed of their muse, And what dark 'gan, dark ended, in me did commence.
2H 241 THE CLOUD'S SWAN-SONG I thought of spirit wronged by mortal ills, And my flesh rotting on my fate's dull stake; And how self-scorned ...they the bounty fills Of others, and the bread, even of their dearest, take.
I thought of Keats, that died in perfect time, In predecease of his just-sickening song; Of him that set, wrapt in his radiant rhyme, Sunlike in sea. Life longer had been life too long.
But I, exanimate of quick Poesy, — O then no more but even a soulless corse!
Nay, my Delight dies not; 'tis I should be Her dead, a stringless harp on which she had no force.
Of my wild lot I thought; from place to place, Apollo's song-bowed Scythian, I go on; Making in all my home, with pliant ways, But, provident of change, putting forth root in none.
What to read after The Collected Poetry of Francis Thompson?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Thompson Francis to read onlineMoreLess
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