Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
To My FriendFrancis Thompson
W
Unto the hive of sleep and hushèd gloom,
Throng the dim-wingèd 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.
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.