TO FRANCIS THOMPSON.

New Zealand Tablet, 3 October 1918, Page 39

TO FRANCIS THOMPSON.

Since thou on earth were poet to God’s throne. Aloft, dost thou not dream and sing of Him, And try thy strength with choirs of Cherubim, Till Heaven o’erflows with odes of mighty tone? Or—Prophetdid some Angel bring to thee The scorching coal that freed thy "poet’s lips, And thou dost see a new Apocalypse The future joys that span eternity ? Or with the little Jesu, hand in hand. You pace the hills that southwardly look down, Where thistles raise on high their purple crown, You speak the thoughts a child can understand? And thus you roam forever by the sea, Choosing to have the wisdom of a’ child, Than all the courts of Heaven to hold beguiled By song or vision chanted mightily. —Robert A. Parsons, S.J.