Here you will find thePoemHouse Of Bondageof poet Francis Thompson
I When I perceive Love's heavenly reaping still Regard perforce the clouds' vicissitude, That the fixed spirit loves not when it will, But craves its seasons of the flawful blood; When I perceive that the high poet doth Oft voiceless stray beneath the uninfluent stars, That even Urania of her kiss is loath, And Song's brave wings fret on their sensual bars; When I perceived the fullest-sail-ed sprite Lag at most need upon the leth-ed seas, The provident captainship oft voided quite, And lam-ed lie deep-draughted argosies; I scorn myself, that put for such strange toys The wit of man to purposes of boys. II The spirit's ark sealed with a little clay, Was old ere Memphis grew a memory; The hand pontifical to break away That seal what shall surrender? Not the sea Which did englut great Egypt and his war, Nor all the desert-drown-ed sepulchres. Love's feet are stained with clay and travel-sore, And dusty are Song's lucent wing and hairs. O Love, that must do courtesy to decay, Eat hasty bread standing with loins up-girt, How shall this stead thy feet for their sore way? Ah, Song, what brief embraces balm thy hurt! Had Jacob's toil full guerdon, casting his Twice-seven heaped years to burn in Rachel's kiss?
