The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
I. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
L. |
LI. |
LII. |
LIII. |
LIV. |
LV. |
LVI. |
LVII. |
LVIII. |
LIX. |
LX. |
LXI. |
LXII. |
LXIII. |
LXIV. |
LXV. |
LXVI. |
LXVII. |
LXVIII. |
LXIX. |
LXX. |
LXXI. |
LXXII. |
LXXIII. |
LXXIV. |
LXXV. |
LXXVI. |
LXXVII. |
LXXVIII. |
LXXIX. |
LXXX. |
III. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ||
109
STARS UNCOUNTED
Through many a vale of sorrow
The human spirit goes.
All human hearts are aching,
And some are well nigh breaking;
But all hearts, sunward turning,
With deep wild pain are yearning
For some divine to-morrow
Of passionless repose.
The human spirit goes.
All human hearts are aching,
And some are well nigh breaking;
But all hearts, sunward turning,
With deep wild pain are yearning
For some divine to-morrow
Of passionless repose.
If life's sad days were endless,
If no to-morrow's sun
Brought peace into our sadness,
Sometimes a note of gladness,
A whisper sweet and cheering,
A sign of dark clouds clearing,
Then well might man the friendless
Sigh, “Would that life were done!”
If no to-morrow's sun
Brought peace into our sadness,
Sometimes a note of gladness,
A whisper sweet and cheering,
A sign of dark clouds clearing,
Then well might man the friendless
Sigh, “Would that life were done!”
110
Though heights tower unsurmounted,
And though the sunshine waits
And longer seems to tarry
The heavier load we carry,
Though tenderest dreams of ours
Die like the pale dead flowers,
Yet are there stars uncounted
Behind the dark night's gates.
And though the sunshine waits
And longer seems to tarry
The heavier load we carry,
Though tenderest dreams of ours
Die like the pale dead flowers,
Yet are there stars uncounted
Behind the dark night's gates.
The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ||