To My FriendAuthor(s): Francis ThompsonSource: Poetry, Vol. 2, No. 3 (Jun., 1913), p. 92Published by: Poetry FoundationStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20569770 .

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POETRY: A Magazine of Verse

TO MY FRIEND

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? O 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.

Francis Thompson

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