“ A Corymbus for Autumn How are the veins of thee, Autumn, laden? Umbered juices, And pulpèd oozes Pappy out of the cherry-bruises, Froth the veins of thee, wild, wild maiden. With hair that musters In globèd clusters, In tumbling… — Francis Thompson Copy Share Image
Babies breathe a lot more rapidly than adults do, and what's more, they're also growing quickly and so they're absorbing lots more into the… — Francis Thompson Copy Share Image
“The fairest things have fleetest end, Their scent survives their close: But the rose's scent is bitterness To her who loved the rose.” — Francis Thompson Copy Share Image
“Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee Save Me, save only Me? All which I took from thee I did but take, Not… — Francis Thompson Copy Share Image
“ A Corymbus for Autumn How are the veins of thee, Autumn, laden? Umbered juices, And pulpèd oozes Pappy out of the cherry-bruises, Froth… — Francis Thompson Copy Share Image
But lilies, stolen from grassy mold, No more curled state unfold, Translated to a vase of gold; In burning throne though they keep still… — Francis Thompson Copy Share Image
Happiness is the shadow of things past, Wich fools still take for that which is to be! — Francis Thompson Copy Share Image
Oh invisible, we view thee, O world intangible, we touch thee, o world unknowable, we know thee. — Francis Thompson Copy Share Image
“I fled Him down the nights and down the days I fled Him down the arches of the years I fled Him down the… — Francis Thompson Copy Share Image
