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Across the margent of the world I fled,
And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars:
Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o’ the moon.

— Francis Thompson The Hound of Heaven (1893)

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More quotes by Francis Thompson

An Atheist is a man who believes himself an accident.

The innocent moon, that nothing does but shine,
Moves all the labouring surges of the world.

That men who find Christianity too hard of belief should come to believe in Paganism, sounds, I know, like an absurdity. But nothing is so incalculable as the credulity of incredulity.

Anchorite, who didst dwell
With all the world for cell!

Whose form is as a grove
Hushed with the cooing of an unseen dove.

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Francis Thompson (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.