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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FOR THOUGHTS by THOMAS FLATMAN

First Line: THOUGHTS! WHAT ARE THEY
Last Line: GAINST THE FULL QUIVERS OF MY DESTINY.
I.

@3Thoughts!@1 What are they?
They are my constant friends,
Who, when harsh Fate its dull brow bends,
Uncloud me with a smiling ray,
And in the depth of midnight force a day.

II.

When I retire, and flee
The busy throngs of company
To hug myself in privacy;
O the discourse! the pleasant talk,
'Twixt us (my thoughts) along a lonely walk!

III.

You, like the stupefying wine
The dying malefactors sip
With shivering lip,
T' abate the rigour of their doom,
By a less troublous cut to their long home;
Make me slight crosses, though they pil'd up lie,
All by th' enchantments of an ecstasy.

IV.

Do I desire to see
The Throne and Majesty
Of that proud one,
@3Brother and Uncle to the Stars and Sun?@1
Those can conduct me where such toys reside,
And waft me 'cross the main, sans wind and tide.

V.

Would I descry
Those radiant mansions 'bove the sky,
Invisible by mortal eye?
My @3Thoughts@1, my @3Thoughts@1 can lay
A shining track thereto,
And nimbly fleeting go:
Through all the eleven orbs can shove a way,
These too, like Jacob's Ladder, are
A most Angelic thoroughfare.

VI.

The wealth that shines
In th' Oriental mines;
Those sparkling gems which Nature keeps
Within her cabinets, the deeps;
The verdant fields,
The rarities the rich World yields;
Rare structures, whose each gilded spire
Glimmers like lightning; which, while men admire,
They deem the neighbouring sky on fire, --
These can I gaze upon, and glut mine eyes
With myriads of varieties.
As on the front of Pisgah, I
Can th' Holy Land through these my optics spy

VII.

Contemn we then
The peevish rage of men,
Whose violence ne'er can divorce
Our mutual amity;
Or lay so damn'd a curse
As @3Non-addresses@1, 'twixt my thoughts and me:
For though I sigh in irons, they
Use their old freedom, readily obey;
And when my bosom-friends desert me, stay.

VIII.

Come then, my darlings, I'll embrace
My privilege; make known
The high prerogative I own,
By making all allurements give you place;
Whose sweet society to me
A sanctuary and a shield shall be
'Gainst the full quivers of my Destiny.



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