The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
 |
|
|
|
HOLD THOU MY HAND!
|
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
191
HOLD THOU MY HAND!
When I too pass at length, a weary singer,
To death's dim land;
When no more dreams and visions round me linger,
Hold thou my hand!
To death's dim land;
When no more dreams and visions round me linger,
Hold thou my hand!
When the last song is sung, the last word spoken,
The last kiss sealed—
When for thee, love, the silence is unbroken,
Nor death's gates yield;
The last kiss sealed—
When for thee, love, the silence is unbroken,
Nor death's gates yield;
When for the last time I, thy poet tender,
Thy mouth have kissed;
When no more round thee sweeps the wild song-splendour;
Shall I be missed?
Thy mouth have kissed;
When no more round thee sweeps the wild song-splendour;
Shall I be missed?
192
Will morning flowers lack somewhat, love, of brightness
Because of me?
The moon with less of thrilling soft love-whiteness
Caress the sea?
Because of me?
The moon with less of thrilling soft love-whiteness
Caress the sea?
Will the long days without me, love, be dreary;
The long strange days?
The uncaressing starless cold nights weary?
Footsore the ways?
The long strange days?
The uncaressing starless cold nights weary?
Footsore the ways?
Wilt thou remember how the old dear moon-glory
Fell o'er the seas?
The thunder of waves whose prancing squadrons hoary
Charged at our knees?
Fell o'er the seas?
The thunder of waves whose prancing squadrons hoary
Charged at our knees?
And oh the night: the night of sacred wonder,
Mute, crowned of stars,
When, once, the fiery love-god smote in sunder
All gates and bars.
Mute, crowned of stars,
When, once, the fiery love-god smote in sunder
All gates and bars.
Wilt thou, when never through the night's dim sweetness
In close embrace
We watch the hours fly past with winged strange fleetness,
Think of my face?
In close embrace
We watch the hours fly past with winged strange fleetness,
Think of my face?
193
Think of the singer who for thee sang solely,
When not one heard;
Who gave thee all his soul-power, gave it wholly
In deed and word?
When not one heard;
Who gave thee all his soul-power, gave it wholly
In deed and word?
Thou art weary of song sometimes; wilt thou be weary
When no songs more
Beat at thy window with moon-pinions eerie?
When no sounds soar?
When no songs more
Beat at thy window with moon-pinions eerie?
When no sounds soar?
When for the last time through the night I follow
The form of thee
Leading to our sequestered soft dream-hollow
Beside the sea?
The form of thee
Leading to our sequestered soft dream-hollow
Beside the sea?
When never again in breathless love I hold thee
O woman, O sweet!
Never again in strong embrace enfold thee
Nor thine eyes meet!
O woman, O sweet!
Never again in strong embrace enfold thee
Nor thine eyes meet!
Oh be not weary; think how short a season
Love-life may be!
Thou lovest me, I know, beyond all treason;
So love I thee.
Love-life may be!
Thou lovest me, I know, beyond all treason;
So love I thee.
194
Hold thou my hand through life: and if death takes me
To his dim land
Ere thou must go, then, as life's breath forsakes me,
Hold thou my hand!
To his dim land
Ere thou must go, then, as life's breath forsakes me,
Hold thou my hand!
1880.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |