“ Where is the land of Luthany,Where is the tract of Elenore?I am bound therefore.'Pierce thy heart to find the key;With thee takeOnly what none else would keep;Learn to dream when thou dost wake;Learn… Francis Thompson
“ Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare, and left the flushed print in a poppy there. Francis Thompson
“ All things by immortal power. Near of far, to each other linked are, that thou canst not stir a flower without troubling of a star. Francis Thompson
“ Nothing begins and nothing ends That is not paid with moan For we are born in others' pain And perish in our own. Francis Thompson
“ The fairest things have fleetest end,Their scent survives their close:But the rose's scent is bitternessTo her who loved the rose. Francis Thompson
