I fled him down the nights and down the days. I Fled Him, Down the Nights and Down the Days: The Text of the Hound of Heaven by John Antas F. Quinn 2019-01-14

I fled him down the nights and down the days Rating: 4,1/10 1306 reviews

THE HOUND OF HEAVEN

i fled him down the nights and down the days

To all swift things for swiftness did I sue; Clung to the whistling mane of every wind. Yeah, faileth now even dream the dreamer and the lute, the lutanist. I laughed in the morning's eyes. Now of that long pursuit, Comes at hand the bruit. I knew all the swift importings On the wilful face of skies; I knew how the clouds arise Spumèd of the wild sea-snortings; All that's born or dies Rose and drooped with--made them shapers Of mine own moods, or wailful or divine-- With them joyed and was bereaven. ‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest, I am He Whom thou seekest! And human love needs human meriting --- How hast thou merited, Of all Man's clotted clay, the dingiest clot.

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therapeutic-journeys.com: Customer reviews: I Fled Him, Down the Nights and Down the Days; The Text of the Hound of Heaven.

i fled him down the nights and down the days

Nature, poor step-dame, cannot slake my drouth. The images show the poignancy of a person trying desperately to avoid being captured by God by escaping into relationships and nature which prove to be unsatisfactory. I find this black and white photo-illustrated version to be very moving. All that's born or dies, Rose and drooped with, Made them shapers of mine own moods, or wailful, or Divine. I slept methinks, and awoke.

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Francis Thompson Poems

i fled him down the nights and down the days

Up vistaed hopes I sped; And shot, precipitated, Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears, From those strong Feet that followed, followed after. I tempted all His servitors, but to find My own betrayal in their constancy, In faith to Him their fickleness to me, Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit. But whether they swept, smoothly fleet, The long savannahs of the blue; Or, whether, Thunder-driven, They clanged his chariot 'thwart a heaven, Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o' their feet:— Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue. Those shaken mists a space unsettle, Then round the half-glimpse d turrets, slowly wash again. Thou dravest Love from thee who dravest Me. Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me! But just that thou might'st seek it in my arms. Strange, piteous, futile thing, Wherefore should any set thee love apart? I pleaded, outlaw--wise by many a hearted casement, curtained red, trellised with inter-twining charities, For though I knew His love who followe d, Yet was I sore adread, lest having Him, I should have nought beside.

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I fled Him, down the nights and down the days (1970 edition)

i fled him down the nights and down the days

Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue. I laughed in the morning's eyes. Wherefore should any set thee love apart? The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind? Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee Save Me, save only Me? Drew the bolt of Nature's secrecies, I knew all the swift importings on the wilful face of skies, I knew how the clouds arise, Spume d of the wild sea-snortings. I triumphed and I saddened with all weather, Heaven and I wept together, And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine: Against the red throb of its sunset-heart I laid my own to beat, And share commingling heat; But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart. Such is; what is to be? Grimed with smears, I stand amidst the dust o' the mounded years-- My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.


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Hound Of Heaven lyrics

i fled him down the nights and down the days

This is a very famous poem that has had much influence. . Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see! ’ So it was done: I in their delicate fellowship was one— Drew the bolt of Nature’s secrecies. Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue. I knew all the swift importings On the wilful face of skies; I knew how the clouds arise Spumèd of the wild sea-snortings; All that’s born or dies Rose and drooped with; made them shapers Of mine own moods, or wailful or divine; With them joyed and was bereaven.

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therapeutic-journeys.com: Customer reviews: I Fled Him, Down the Nights and Down the Days; The Text of the Hound of Heaven.

i fled him down the nights and down the days

That Voice is round me like a bursting Sea: And is thy Earth so marred, Shattered in shard on shard? Come then, ye other children, Nature's Share with me, said I, your delicate fellowship. I turned me to them very wistfully; But, just as their young eyes grew sudden fair With dawning answers there, Their angel plucked them from me by the hair. But, if one little casement parted wide, The gust of His approach would clash it to. In vain my tears were wet on Heaven's grey cheek. Such is; what is to be? My days have crackled and gone up in smoke, Have puffed and burst like sunstarts on a stream. Whether manÂ’s heart or life it be which yields Thee harvest, must Thy harvest-fields Be dunged with rotten death? Now of that long pursuit Comes on at hand the bruit; That Voice is round me like a bursting sea: 'And is thy earth so marred, Shattered in shard on shard? My harness, piece by piece, thou'st hewn from me And smitten me to my knee, I am defenceless, utterly.

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The Hound Of Heaven Poem by Francis Thompson

i fled him down the nights and down the days

The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind? 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. . Across the margent of the world I fled, And troubled the gold gateways of the stars, Smiting for shelter on their clanged bars; Fretted to dulcet jars And silvern chatter the pale ports o' the moon. My days have crackled and gone up in smoke, Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream. In the rash lustihead of my young powers, I shook the pillaring hours And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears, I stand amidst the dust o' the mounded years — My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.

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The Hound Of Heaven Poem by Francis Thompson

i fled him down the nights and down the days

Still with unhurrying chase, And unperturbed pace, Deliberate speed, majestic instancy, Came on the following Feet, And a Voice above their beat— 'Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me. I tempted all His servitors, but to find My own betrayal in their constancy, In faith to Him their fickleness to me, Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit. 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. My freshness spent its wavering shower i' the dust; And now my heart is as a broken fount, Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever From the dank thoughts that shiver Upon the sighful branches of my mind. With frantic poignancy the devotee in the poet seeks the 'deliberate speed' and reduces himself into an withering haggard. Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.

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I fled Him, down the nights and down the days; the text of The Hound of heaven. (Book, 1970) [therapeutic-journeys.com]

i fled him down the nights and down the days

But, if one little casement parted wide, The gust of His approach would clash it to: Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue. All which thy child’s mistake Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home: Rise, clasp My hand, and come! When he finally gives up, he finds that God is not cruel and punishing, but loving, embracing and protective. I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds; Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds From the hid battlements of Eternity; Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then Round the half-glimpsèd turrets slowly wash again. I tempted all His servitors, but to find My own betrayal in their constancy, In faith to Him their fickleness to me, Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit. Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee, Save me, save only me? But still within the little childrens' eyes Seems something, something that replies, They at least are for me, surely for me. Yea, faileth now even dream The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist; Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist, Are yielding; cords of all too weak account For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.

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THE HOUND OF HEAVEN

i fled him down the nights and down the days

Seeing none but I makes much of naught' He said , 'And human love needs human meriting: How hast thou merited — Of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot? Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue. Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest me. I tempted all His servitors but to find My own betrayal in their constancy, In faith to Him, their fickleness to me, Their traitorous trueness and their loyal deceit. 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 o' the mounded years-- My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap. The vagabond poet is a psychic traveler in the abstract realm of God, and God realization is his only concern. To all swift things for swiftness did I sue; Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.

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