The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
16
A LONDON SEASON
Hour follows hour, and day succeeds to day,
And the short night gives place to morning grey,
And still our feet pursue
The phantom, Pleasure, glimmering o'er the way
But never quite in view.
And the short night gives place to morning grey,
And still our feet pursue
The phantom, Pleasure, glimmering o'er the way
But never quite in view.
One day is weary, and the next the same:
We have no high pursuit, no settled aim;
We follow Pleasure hard.
Still, as we follow her, and strive to claim,
We meet some window barred.
We have no high pursuit, no settled aim;
We follow Pleasure hard.
Still, as we follow her, and strive to claim,
We meet some window barred.
Just as a lover, on some summer night
In Italy, pursuing, loses sight
Of the sweet form he seeks
Within some shrubbery, and her floating white
Robe haunts his dream for weeks:
In Italy, pursuing, loses sight
Of the sweet form he seeks
Within some shrubbery, and her floating white
Robe haunts his dream for weeks:
17
So Pleasure shuns us, yea we find her not
Amid the heated rooms and in no spot
Where languid Fashion dwells;
She loves, perhaps, bright beach, or ferny grot,
Or green stream-cloven dells.
Amid the heated rooms and in no spot
Where languid Fashion dwells;
She loves, perhaps, bright beach, or ferny grot,
Or green stream-cloven dells.
Through the sweet summer night in country lanes
And country gardens after soft slight rains
Scents numberless delight;
Beside the sea's great green dim houseless plains
Fringed with their bordering white
And country gardens after soft slight rains
Scents numberless delight;
Beside the sea's great green dim houseless plains
Fringed with their bordering white
The wet glad wholesome sand smells fresh and strong,
And the sea's limitless June-chastened song
Rises upon the air:
What have the weary house-pent London throng
That can with this compare?
And the sea's limitless June-chastened song
Rises upon the air:
What have the weary house-pent London throng
That can with this compare?
Our seasons follow each other, and they find
New hearts of men made deaf and women blind
To all that Nature brings:
Ever the mass of imbecile mankind
Will live devoid of wings.
New hearts of men made deaf and women blind
To all that Nature brings:
Ever the mass of imbecile mankind
Will live devoid of wings.
18
But for the poet love alone, and flowers,
And woman's heart, make lovely mortal hours;
If these he hath he breathes.
Without them, curséd are all Fashion's bowers
And withered Fashion's wreaths.
And woman's heart, make lovely mortal hours;
If these he hath he breathes.
Without them, curséd are all Fashion's bowers
And withered Fashion's wreaths.
July 6, 1881.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |