The Hound of Heaven

I started this week diving into poetry with the end goal to pick apart the poem The Hound of Heaven, by Francis Thompson. My friend's grandpa sent it to me many years ago after I had been ill for quite some time. I read it over and over, not thinking of terms such as rhythm, metaphor, personification, hyperbole, or other terms used to describe poetry. I just knew I liked it. The words caused me to feel powerful emotions. I felt it was written for me. Today, I attempted synthesize those feelings with more specific literary terms, in order to describe why it means something to me.

Francis Thompson's life is considered depressing by most. He had constant issues with his health, and he was addicted to opiates for most of his life. He was in love witha prostitute and died of tuberculosis in 1907.  Although a bit tormented, he was a strong believer in the church (catholic), which lead him to write  the 182 line poem titled The Hound of Heaven.

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
  Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
           Up vistaed hopes I sped;
           And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
          But with unhurrying chase,
          And unperturbéd pace,
      Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
          They beat—and a Voice beat
          More instant than the Feet—
      “All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.”