The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

Next there came a time of horror, when my soul saw nought of light,
Wildly longed by day for Annie, then yearned heavenward through the night;
Till at last my thought grew clearer—I would seek the friendly sea—
The vast loveless waves should heal me and the winds should set me free.

Round the coast just now was sailing, ere the summer days were spent,
The dark fleet of herring-fishers, on their Northward voyage intent,
From Penzance to Whitby steering: I would join them once again;
Strangle love, the sea's strength helping—stifle love, and deaden pain.

So I sailed with them and struggled, was victorious for awhile,
Dreamed of passionless cold sea-wastes and the white moon's loveless smile—
Dreamed that love had never thrilled me, dreamed my heart was wholly dead—
Till one starlit night we anchored, half the fleet, off Beachy Head.

181

Then there came through all the calmness of that starlit night at sea
The full fierce storm of reaction, smiting body and soul of me:
While the stars upon the water in untroubled silence gleamed
Thus my storm-tossed troubled spirit in its starless anguish dreamed:—

“What a peace upon the waters! What a storm within my soul!
Through my heart the giant surges of an endless sorrow roll:
All is calm and still around me, countless stars above me shine,
And the peace of God is in them, but the travail of man is mine.

“Shall I never win God's peace now? must I bid sweet love depart?
Wrench the image of a woman, and for ever, from my heart?
On the land the roses blossom, and God bending from his throne
Sends them love and sends them fragrance: I am loveless, I alone.

182

“Star to star sends holiest greeting,—even the sea-bird from the wave
Takes not back the kiss that, passing, with its swift white wing it gave:
But God sends a heart to love me—then he takes that heart from me;
I am lonelier than the lone stars, I am lonelier than the sea.

“In the morning past the green banks in our Cornwall she will go,
Through the lovely Cornish deep lanes draped with fern-fronds loiter slow:
Will she think of me, I wonder? Will the fern-fronds hear her sigh?
Or will all be peace and gladness like the gladness of the sky?

“Bird to bird will softly murmur, ‘This is fairy-land's pure queen
Sent to tarry here with mortals, for a season known and seen:
How the heart of man must love her?’ Then the violet in repose
On the mossy bank will whispher, ‘She is lovelier than the rose!

183

“‘Though I love the wild red rosebud, she is lovelier far than this!’
Then the wild red rose will murmur, ‘Though I love the violet's kiss
There's a softer sweet kiss waiting, there's a sweeter mouth than hers;
Aye, a noble kiss more luscious than the flower-kiss of the furze.

“‘I am only a hedgerow blossom—I would die in her embrace
Were I but a man to love her, were I in her lover's place!
I would bring the whole world's emeralds, every ruby I would take;
I would search the depths for diamonds, sack the gold-fields for her sake.

“‘That must be the glory of loving,’ so the rose will murmur low,
‘Not to rest among the hedge-leaves while the days pass, dull and slow,
But to ruin oneself for love's sake—ruin the world, if that may be!
Steal the stars to fill love's coffers, drag lost treasures from the sea.

184

“‘Were I but a man, my violet, were my violet but a maid,
I would lift her into sunlight, I would lift her from the shade:
I would chaffer with the angels, bring their choicest gold robes down;
I would even drive a bargain with Jehovah for his crown!’—

“So the wild red rose will whisper, as it were rebuking me.
Have I torn for her strange treasures from the green depths of the sea?
Have I brought her rubies, sapphires? There are nobler jewels above:
These I craved for, these I sought for—and my heart was closed to love.

“O my Master, have I left you? Is there even a stronger power
In the world than that of Jesus? Is this simple snow-white flower,
Even the flower of love that Jesus in his kingly sternness scorns,
Far more potent through its fragrance than his pale wreath through its thorns?

185

“Have I after all been preaching of the life beyond the tomb,
Preaching of the heavenly blossoms, while I loved a lily in bloom
Here on earth? Have I been preaching of sunlight beyond the skies,
Dazzled all the while with starlight, even the light in Annie's eyes?

“Have I only dreamed of Jesus? Have I acted all the while
As if dearer far than Jesus was a girl's quick sudden smile?
Have I been content with fancies of the sinless heavenly land
While to me the heavenliest rapture would have been to kiss her hand?

“All these years have I been traitor—yes, a traitor to my Lord?
When I thought I worshipped Jesus, it was Annie I adored:
When I thought the Spirit of Nature spoke from wave and bush and flower,
It was Annie whom I worshipped,—she was sovereign in that hour.

186

“It was not the Spirit of Nature, it was passion after all,
Just the same old pagan passion—what a hideous lapse and fall!
I had sworn to banish passion from my life—to live and die
As a preacher of the gospel, with my home beyond the sky—

“I had preached of self-denial—I was conquered, I was base,
Conquered by a girl's young laughter, by the young pure lovely face:
Venus still alas! was living; I was sin-stained and defiled;
Madly (I see) I loved the woman, while I thought I loved the child!

“While I taught her of the next world, she was slowly teaching me
Just what Venus taught to mortals when she sprang from out the sea.
I was teacher—she was pupil—but the pupil was more wise;
While I taught with pen and pencil, she was teaching with her eyes.”

187

So I reasoned through the night-time, but my spirit reached no goal:
Star to star gave loving answer, but they spake not to my soul.
I was left alone and joyless 'mid the universal peace;
“Love is born,” my heart had whispered—now it whispered “Love must cease.”