The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| V. |
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LOVE'S CHOICE
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| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
194
LOVE'S CHOICE
Because I feel that I cannot forget,
I thank thee, Lord!—Because for ever now
My eyes will meet the sinless eyes I met,
And see the dark hair shade a sinless brow:
I thank thee, Lord!—Because for ever now
My eyes will meet the sinless eyes I met,
And see the dark hair shade a sinless brow:
Because, though she is dead,—aye, dead in shame,
Polluted through the villany of one
Who, lusting, did in love's dishonoured name
The meanest deed that ever on earth was done;
Polluted through the villany of one
Who, lusting, did in love's dishonoured name
The meanest deed that ever on earth was done;
Because, though she be lost, she for whose sake
I would have gone with singing to my tomb,
I think of her...as even the ice-bound lake
Dreams of green banks divine with summer's bloom:
I would have gone with singing to my tomb,
I think of her...as even the ice-bound lake
Dreams of green banks divine with summer's bloom:
Because I think of her, so sweet and pure
And tender—ere the villany of man
Spread forth its cautious net, its cunning lure,
And ended darkly what in light began:
And tender—ere the villany of man
Spread forth its cautious net, its cunning lure,
And ended darkly what in light began:
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Because I still can see within her eyes
The light of very heaven as once it gleamed;
Because my heart, though in hell's depth it lies,
Will dream for ever as at first it dreamed:
The light of very heaven as once it gleamed;
Because my heart, though in hell's depth it lies,
Will dream for ever as at first it dreamed:
Because the past is with me evermore;
Because love is in me a changeless thing;
Because the blue waves may forsake the shore,
Green leaves forget to deck the brow of Spring—
Because love is in me a changeless thing;
Because the blue waves may forsake the shore,
Green leaves forget to deck the brow of Spring—
Because there is in me no power to change,
Because my pain is everlasting, Lord,
I thank thee with a passion grim and strange:—
My love thou slayest not with thy keen-edged sword.
Because my pain is everlasting, Lord,
I thank thee with a passion grim and strange:—
My love thou slayest not with thy keen-edged sword.
If thou couldst change despair to joy of heart,
Then would there be no story of love to tell!
Love bids all untrue comforters depart,
And lest in heaven it falter, chooses hell.
Then would there be no story of love to tell!
Love bids all untrue comforters depart,
And lest in heaven it falter, chooses hell.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |