quote · Legacy record
Like to a wind-blown sapling grow I from The cliff, Sweet, of your skyward-jetting soul,— Shook by all gusts that sweep it, overcome By all its clouds incumbent; O be true To your soul, dearest, as my life to you! For if that soil grow sterile, then the whole Of me must shrivel, from the topmost shoot Of climbing poesy, and my life, killed through, Dry down and perish to the foodless root.
Like to a wind-blown sapling grow I from The cliff, Sweet, of your skyward-jetting soul,— Shook by all gusts that sweep it, overcome By all its clouds incumbent; O be true To your soul, dearest, as my life to you! For if that soil grow sterile, then the whole Of me must shrivel, from the topmost shoot Of climbing poesy, and my life, killed through, Dry down and perish to the foodless root.
Historical period not yet established
Meaning not yet available
An individual explanation has not yet been added. We do not substitute a generic description for an interpretation of these particular words.
Begin with source-checked readings and explanations ↗Attribution & collection notes
- Author or tradition
- Francis Thompson (identity unresolved)
Attribution: unknown - Country attributed
- Not established
A country attribution does not establish the earliest origin. - Historical period
- Historical period not yet established
No sufficiently supported historical placement has been established. Import and download dates are not treated as composition dates. - Recorded source
- Hoyt’s New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations (1922) (1922 AD)
Printed page 482 · quotation 22 · Francis Thompson · Manus Animam Pinxit.
A collection's publication date can be later than the words it records.