The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
243
Soon I passed into the darkness of the quiet street outside,
Just to seek the last sad tendance for a woman who had died;
That was all in outward seeming—just to send a human frame
Living help in its last journey to the dust from whence it came.
Just to seek the last sad tendance for a woman who had died;
That was all in outward seeming—just to send a human frame
Living help in its last journey to the dust from whence it came.
That was all in outward seeming: as I turned into the Strand
What a rage and crush of people, what a crowd on either hand!
Life was hurrying on for ever in its immemorial stream;
Which was truth, my whole soul wondered—which, I wondered, was the dream?
What a rage and crush of people, what a crowd on either hand!
Life was hurrying on for ever in its immemorial stream;
Which was truth, my whole soul wondered—which, I wondered, was the dream?
Which was life in very truth now, which was after all most sweet?
Were they living, these lost women, as they pressed along the street,
Coarse, with coarser men companions—were they living, or was she
Rather living? Had the dead soul won life's genuine victory?
Were they living, these lost women, as they pressed along the street,
Coarse, with coarser men companions—were they living, or was she
Rather living? Had the dead soul won life's genuine victory?
244
“Where is right and where is justice? All is accident and chance.
As I passed just now that woman I saw deep within her glance
All the latent power of loving that in happier sisters leads
Their own souls to heights of virtue, those they love to noble deeds.
As I passed just now that woman I saw deep within her glance
All the latent power of loving that in happier sisters leads
Their own souls to heights of virtue, those they love to noble deeds.
“Must one woman be degraded, while another woman soars
Clad in rustling silks and satin towards the heavenly golden doors?
Why must all the stars, obsequious, lend one honeymoon their light
While another woman in darkness changes husbands every night?
Clad in rustling silks and satin towards the heavenly golden doors?
Why must all the stars, obsequious, lend one honeymoon their light
While another woman in darkness changes husbands every night?
“Why must one display with rapture, happy, wifely, pure and sweet,
All her gifts and wedding presents, with the whole world at her feet,
While another, just as noble, had her life's chance been the same,
Dips her soul each night more deeply in the nameless mire of shame?
All her gifts and wedding presents, with the whole world at her feet,
While another, just as noble, had her life's chance been the same,
Dips her soul each night more deeply in the nameless mire of shame?
245
“Why must one parade in Venice, with her husband by her side,
While another walks in London, all the town's promiscuous bride?
Analyse them when they started, eyes and lips and mind and heart—
It may be you'd hardly have known them, after all, at first, apart?
While another walks in London, all the town's promiscuous bride?
Analyse them when they started, eyes and lips and mind and heart—
It may be you'd hardly have known them, after all, at first, apart?
“Why must one child in the cradle by a mother rocked to sleep
Rest, while through the foggy darkness other weary footsteps creep,—
Weary footsteps of some mother, in her madness carrying down
Her first baby to the river, for the cradling waves to drown?”
Rest, while through the foggy darkness other weary footsteps creep,—
Weary footsteps of some mother, in her madness carrying down
Her first baby to the river, for the cradling waves to drown?”
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |