Quote #17
The angels keep their ancient places;- Turn but a stone, and start a wing! 'Tis ye, 'tis your estranged faces, That miss the many-splendoured thing.
More from Francis Thompson
- The drift of pinions, would we hearken, Beats at our own clay-shuttered doors.
- Upon thy so sore loss Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder Pitched betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross.
- O world invisible, we view thee, O world intangible, we touch thee, O world unknowable, we know thee, Inapprehensible, we clutch thee!
- I fear to love you, Sweet, because Love's the ambassador of loss.
- All which I took from thee I did but take, Not for thy harms, But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.
- Little Jesus, wast Thou shy Once, and just so small as I? And what did it feel to be Out of Heaven and just like me?
- In the rash lustihead of my young powers, I shook the pillaring hours And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears, I stand amid the dust…
- I said to Dawn: Be sudden-to Eve: Be soon.