Classic and Contemporary Poetry
AN ACKNOWLEDGMENT, by HENRY KING (1592-1669) Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: My best of friends! What needs a chain to tie Last Line: Will period, though never crown, my hope. | ||||||||
MY best of friends! what needs a chain to tie One by your merit bound a votary? Think you I have some plot upon my peace, I would this bondage change for a release? Since 'twas my fate your prisoner to be, Heav'n knows I nothing fear, but liberty. Yet you do well, that study to prevent, After so rich a stock of favour spent On one so worthless, lest my memory Should let so dear an obligation die Without record. This made my precious Friend Her token, as an antidote, to send, Against forgetful poisons; That as they Who Vespers late, and early Mattins say Upon their beads, so on this linked score In golden numbers I might reckon o'er Your virtues and my debt, which does surmount The trivial laws of popular account: For that, within this emblematic knot, Your beauteous mind, and my own fate, is wrote. The sparkling constellation which combines The lock, is your dear self, whose worth outshines Most of your sex; so solid and so clear You like a perfect diamond appear; Casting, from your example, fuller light Than those dim sparks which glaze the brow of night, And gladding all your friends, as doth the ray Of that East-star which wakes the cheerful day. But the black map of death and discontent Behind that adamantine firmament, That luckless figure, which, like Calvary, Stands strew'd and copied out in skulls, is I: Whose life your absence clouds, and makes my time Move blindfold in the dark ecliptic line. Then wonder not, if my removed Sun So low within the western tropic run; My eyes no day in this horizon see, Since where You are not, all is night to me. Lastly, the anchor which enfast'ned lies Upon a pair of deaths, sadly applies That Monument of Rest, which harbour must Our ship-wrackt fortunes in a road of dust. So then, how late soe'er my joyless life Be tired out in this affection's strife: Though my tempestuous fancy, like the sky, Travail with storms, and through my wat'ry eye, Sorrow's high-going waves spring many a leak; Though sighs blow loud, till my heart's cordage break; Though Faith, and all my wishes prove untrue, Yet Death shall fix and anchor Me with You. 'Tis some poor comfort, that this mortal scope Will period, though never crown, my Hope. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SIC VITA by HENRY KING (1592-1669) THE EXEQUY [ON HIS WIFE] by HENRY KING (1592-1669) UPON THE DEATH OF MY EVER CONSTANT FRIEND DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by HENRY KING (1592-1669) A LETTER by HENRY KING (1592-1669) A PENTITENTIAL HYMN by HENRY KING (1592-1669) A RENUNCIATION by HENRY KING (1592-1669) A SALUTATION OF HIS MAJESTY'S SHIP THE SOVEREIGN by HENRY KING (1592-1669) A SECOND ELEGY ON THE COUNTESS OF LEISTER by HENRY KING (1592-1669) AN ELEGY OCCASIONED BY SICKNESS by HENRY KING (1592-1669) AN ELEGY ON SIR CHARLES LUCAS AND SIR GEORGE LISLE by HENRY KING (1592-1669) AN ELEGY UPON MRS. KIRK, UNFORTUNATELY DROWNED IN THAMES by HENRY KING (1592-1669) AN ELEGY UPON MY BEST FRIEND, L. K. C. by HENRY KING (1592-1669) |
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