Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LOVE'S FRANCISCAN, by HENRY CONSTABLE

Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Rhyming Dictionary Search
LOVE'S FRANCISCAN, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Sweet hand! The sweet yet cruel bow thou art
Last Line: Thy arrows quiver, and thy relics shine.

Sweet hand! the sweet yet cruel bow thou art,
From whence as one, five ivory arrows fly,
So with five wounds at once I wounded lie
Bearing in breast the print of every dart.
Saint Francis had the like, yet felt no smart:
Where I in living torments never die;
His wounds were in his hands and feet where I
All these same helpless wounds feel in my heart.
Now as Saint Francis (if a saint) am I.
The bow which shot these shafts a relic is;
I mean the hand, which is the reason why
So many for devotion thee would kiss,
And I thy glove kiss as a thing divine;
Thy arrows quiver, and thy relics shine.

Other Poems of Interest...

Home: PoetryExplorer.net