Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SONNET: AD AMICAM by FRANCIS THOMPSON

Poet Analysis

First Line: DEAR DOVE, THAT BEAR'ST TO MY SOLE - LABOURING ARK
Last Line: IN HER EYES' CENTRAL GLORY, GOD TOOK THRONE.
I

DEAR Dove, that bear'st to my sole-labouring ark
The olive-branch of so long wished rest,
When the white solace glimmers through my dark
Of nearing wings, what comfort in my breast!
Oh, may that doubted day not come, not come,
When you shall fail, my heavenly messenger,
And drift into the distance and the doom
Of all my impermissible things that were!
Rather than so, now make the sad farewell,
Which yet may be with not too-pained pain,
Lest I again the acquainted tale should tell
Of sharpest loss that pays for shortest gain.
Ah, if my heart should hear no white wings thrill
Against its waiting window, open still!

II

WHEN from the blossoms of the noiseful day
Unto the hive of sleep and hushed gloom
Throng the dim-winged dreams -- what dreams are they
That with the wildest honey hover home?
Oh, they that have from many thousand thoughts
Stolen the strange sweet of ever-blossomy you,
A thousand fancies in fair-coloured knots
Which you are inexhausted meadow to.
Ah, what sharp heathery honey, quick with pain,
Do they bring home! It holds the night awake
To hear their lovely murmur in my brain;
And Sleep's wings have a trouble for your sake.
Day and you dawn together: for at end
With the first light breaks the first thought -- 'My friend!'

III

OFRIEND, who mak'st that mis-spent word of 'friend'
Sweet as the low note that a summer dove
Fondles in her warm throat! And shall it end,
Because so swift on friend and friend broke love?
Lo, when all words to honour thee are spent,
And flung a bold stave to the old bald Time
Telling him that he is too insolent
Who thinks to rase thee from my heart or rhyme;
Whereof to one because thou life hast given,
The other yet shall give a life to thee,
Such as to gain, the prowest swords have striven,
And compassed weaker immortality:
These spent, my heart not stinteth in her breast
Her sweet 'Friend! friend!' -- one note, and loves it best.

IV

NO, no, it cannot be, it cannot be,
Because this love of close-affined friends
In its sweet sudden ambush toiled me
So swift, that therefore all as swift it ends.
For swift it was, yet quiet as the birth
Of smoothest Music in a Master's soul,
Whose mild fans lapsing as she slides to earth
Waver in the bold arms which dare control
Her from her lineal heaven; yea, it was still
As the young Moon that bares her nightly breast;
And smiles to see the Babe earth suck its fill.
O Halcyon! was thine auspice not of rest?
Shall this proud verse bid after-livers see
How friends could love for immortality?

V

WHEN that part heavenliest of all-heavenly you
First at my side did breathe its blossomy air,
What lovely wilderment alarmed me through!
On what ambrosial effluence did I fare,
And comforts Paradisal! What gales came,
Through ports for one divinest space ajar,
Of ranked lilies blown into a flame
By watered banks where walks of young Saints are!
One attent space, my trembling locks did rise
Swayed on the wind, in planetary wheel
Of intervolving sweet societies,
From waved vesture and from fledged heel
Odorous aspersion trailing. Then, alone
In her eyes' central glory, God took throne.



Home: PoetryExplorer.net