Aug 19, 2008

the hound of heaven

[Excerpt] By Francis Thompson 1859–1907

Now of that long pursuit 155
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?
Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me! 160
Strange, piteous, futile thing!
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught’ (He said),
‘And human love needs human meriting:
How hast thou merited— 165
Of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me? 170
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.
All which thy child’s mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home: 175
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’
Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest, 180
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.’

1 comment:

  1. It is but foolish to know/think/wish/believe one might find what they are looking for in another's arms (but without being foolish, one can't really experience true love, can they?). Yet, I say, there's nothing but the other there. Unless the other is looking for the other (but why? - You are, therefore I am - perhaps). True love (or fear, the cynical will tell you) at it's best, i think. A manifesto for those very social.

    p.s. Wiki tells me the poem is the pursuit of the human soul by God.