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150 This from the "Orient Ode," a pageant of compelling beauty, is already dear to every lover of Francis Thompson:

It is impossible to quote here from the "Ode to the Setting Sun," with its half-tragic blending of death and birth, or from the wild Bacchic gladness of the "Corymbus for Autumn." For Thompson can, and does, rejoice in beauty with the sensuous loveliness of Keats himself; albeit very soon the visible becomes for him a portent and prophecy of the invisible, and through the glad earth-cry roll dim pealings of "a higher and a solemn voice." There is no more representative expression of this very Christian and very poetic attitude than in the lovely Paschal ode, "From the Night of Forebeing," with its inspiring burden: