The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
270
A QUEEN'S MANDATE
Back to the smoke-fed city from the sea
Thou, stronger than the sea's hand, drawest me:
Back, past green hill-side, flower and field and tree,
To where the eternal fog-bound turrets rise.
Thou, stronger than the sea's hand, drawest me:
Back, past green hill-side, flower and field and tree,
To where the eternal fog-bound turrets rise.
For thy sake dearer than the mountain-air
And than the breezy cliff-tops even more fair
Are the dim robes of mist the houses wear
Beneath their sunless moonless starless skies.
And than the breezy cliff-tops even more fair
Are the dim robes of mist the houses wear
Beneath their sunless moonless starless skies.
Thou biddest me return, and lo! I leave
The golden-coloured morn, the crimson eve;
Thy queenly laughing mandate I receive,
And bend before the sovereign in thine eyes.
The golden-coloured morn, the crimson eve;
Thy queenly laughing mandate I receive,
And bend before the sovereign in thine eyes.
I leave my labour here,—I put it by;
I bid farewell to the wide dome of sky
And to the sea-bird's silver wings that fly
Across the watery waste that throbs and sighs.
I bid farewell to the wide dome of sky
And to the sea-bird's silver wings that fly
Across the watery waste that throbs and sighs.
271
Thou art my ocean, love, my star and sun;
Without thee heaven is lost, heaven hardly won;
As if love never yet had even begun
I seek thee, longing to be made more wise
Without thee heaven is lost, heaven hardly won;
As if love never yet had even begun
I seek thee, longing to be made more wise
In holiest love-lore, love, than ever yet;
Feeling as though our eyes had never met;
Feeling as though thy lips had not been set
On mine,—as if sweet love were still surprise.
Feeling as though our eyes had never met;
Feeling as though thy lips had not been set
On mine,—as if sweet love were still surprise.
For that is what I ever feel of thee:
Thou art as new-born as the new-born sea
Each morning, or the new pink almond-tree
That with the pinkness of the morning vies.
Thou art as new-born as the new-born sea
Each morning, or the new pink almond-tree
That with the pinkness of the morning vies.
Thou art as new-born as the gracious gold
That clings around the sun's form, fold on fold,
Each break of day. Thou never canst grow old;
Thou art the truth, and death is he who lies.
That clings around the sun's form, fold on fold,
Each break of day. Thou never canst grow old;
Thou art the truth, and death is he who lies.
Thy strong attraction over leagues of space
Lures me and draws me to thy dwelling-place;
I long to watch the beauty of thy face,
The magic in thy glance that never dies.
Lures me and draws me to thy dwelling-place;
I long to watch the beauty of thy face,
The magic in thy glance that never dies.
272
As the strong sun attracts the furthest star,
Piercing past wall of storm and cloudy bar,
So where thy most magnetic glances are
I have to be. I am thy spoil and prize.
Piercing past wall of storm and cloudy bar,
So where thy most magnetic glances are
I have to be. I am thy spoil and prize.
If I were further than the furthest light
Whose rippling wave-beats strike upon our sight
Still wouldst thou draw me, O my one delight;
Thy magic spell I still should recognise!
Whose rippling wave-beats strike upon our sight
Still wouldst thou draw me, O my one delight;
Thy magic spell I still should recognise!
So farewell, hill and sky and stars and sea!
My love, my own true loved one, summoneth me.
Where thou art, all God's stars must surely be,
For in thy glances star to star replies.
My love, my own true loved one, summoneth me.
Where thou art, all God's stars must surely be,
For in thy glances star to star replies.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |