The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | IX. |
THE LONELY YEARNING
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| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
40
THE LONELY YEARNING
And dost thou feel, O bard, that in thine heart
There are strange powers
Unshared of men;
That in thine Art
Is something cognate to the fields of flowers
Or clouds that storm the granite-bouldered glen?
There are strange powers
Unshared of men;
That in thine Art
Is something cognate to the fields of flowers
Or clouds that storm the granite-bouldered glen?
And dost thou feel that like another sense
Unknown, undreamed of by the common crowd,
The beauty of woman thrills thy soul,
A joy intense:
That thou hast ever to proclaim aloud
That Beauty sways beginning, course, and goal?
Unknown, undreamed of by the common crowd,
The beauty of woman thrills thy soul,
A joy intense:
That thou hast ever to proclaim aloud
That Beauty sways beginning, course, and goal?
Then, if thou feelest this,
If unto thee
There is a marvel in the sunset-air
And in the swoop of swift or song of bee,—
In the sea's kiss
A glory that thy fellows may not share;
If unto thee
There is a marvel in the sunset-air
And in the swoop of swift or song of bee,—
In the sea's kiss
A glory that thy fellows may not share;
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If most of all in Her,
Woman, who sways the heart of endless time,
The ceaseless years,
Thou findest a plenipotence sublime,
Beyond thy peers,—
If at her eyes thy soul's deep pulses stir;
Woman, who sways the heart of endless time,
The ceaseless years,
Thou findest a plenipotence sublime,
Beyond thy peers,—
If at her eyes thy soul's deep pulses stir;
Then strive thou to excel
Those unto whom thy vision is not given:
If they live nobly, well!
But strive thou after even a lordlier heaven.
Sink not below the rest. Let blind folk be!
Climb thou the mountains thy dream-glances see.
Those unto whom thy vision is not given:
If they live nobly, well!
But strive thou after even a lordlier heaven.
Sink not below the rest. Let blind folk be!
Climb thou the mountains thy dream-glances see.
1885.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |