seeks her, but in pure
abandonment of his spirit to her changing moods. He will be one with
cloud and sky and sea, will be the brother of the dawn and eventide.

"I was heavy with the even,
When she lit her glimmering tapers
Round the day's dead sanctities.
I laughed in the morning's eyes,
I triumphed and I saddened with all weather."

Here again Francis Thompson is on familiar ground. If, like Mr.
Chesterton, he holds the key of fairyland, like him also he can retain
through life his wonder at the grass. His nature-poetry is nearer
Shelley than anything that has been written since Shelley died. In it

"The leaves dance, the leaves sing,
The leaves dance in the breath of spring,"

or--

"The great-vanned Angel March
Hath trumpeted
His clangorous 'Sleep no more' to all the dead--
Beat his strong vans o'er earth and air and sea
And they have heard;
Hark to the _Jubilate_ of the bird."

These, and such exquisite detailed imagery as that of the poem _To a
Snowflake_--the delicate silver filigree of verse--rank him among the
most privileged of the ministrants in Nature's temple, standing very
close to the shrine. Yet here again there is repulse for the flying
soul. This fellowship, like that of the children, is indeed fair and
sheltering, but it is not for him. It is as when sunset changes the
glory from the landscape into the cold and dead aspect of suddenly
fallen night. Nature, that seemed so alive and welcoming, is dead to
him. Her austerity and aloofness change her face; she is not friend but
stranger. Her language is another tongue from his--

"In vain my tears were wet on Heaven's grey cheek,"

--and the padding of the feet is heard again.

Thus has he compassed the length and breadth of the universe in the vain
attempt to flee from God. Now at last he finds himself at bay. God has
been too much for him. Against his will, and wearied out with the vain
endeavour to escape, he must face the pursuing Love at last.

"Naked I wait Thy love's uplifted stroke!
My harness piece by piece thou hast hewn from me,
And smitten me to my knee.
I am defenceless utterly."

So, faced by ultimate destiny in the form of Divine Love at last, he
remembers the omnipotence that once had seemed to dwell in him, when

"In the rash lustihead of my young powers,
I shook