The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
I. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
LXXXI. |
LXXXII. |
LXXXIII. |
LXXXIV. |
LXXXV. |
LXXXVI. |
LXXXVII. |
LXXXVIII. |
LXXXIX. |
XC. |
XCI. |
XCII. |
XCIII. |
XCIV. |
XCV. |
XCVI. |
XCVII. |
XCVIII. |
XCIX. |
C. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ||
113
I. THE GIFTS OF TIME
The gifts of Youth are passing fair:
Through many a soft spring day
Their tender fragrance scents the air,
But—then they pass away!
—Hope, dying ere its blossom glows:
Faith in the false world's truth:
Faith in the swiftly fading rose:—
These are the gifts of Youth.
Through many a soft spring day
Their tender fragrance scents the air,
But—then they pass away!
—Hope, dying ere its blossom glows:
Faith in the false world's truth:
Faith in the swiftly fading rose:—
These are the gifts of Youth.
But fairer are the gifts Love brings;
Is there one humble cot,
One palace of a thousand kings
Where star-crowned Love is not?
—A rapture passing earthly speech:
Light stolen from heaven above:
The power, it seems, that heaven to reach:—
These are the gifts of Love.
Is there one humble cot,
One palace of a thousand kings
Where star-crowned Love is not?
114
Light stolen from heaven above:
The power, it seems, that heaven to reach:—
These are the gifts of Love.
But yet one other figure waits:
In sunshine or in shade,
With eyes that meet and conquer Fate's,
It tarries undismayed.
—Life's harvests, bright on either hand:
Joy changeless, deep, sublime:
Peace filling all the golden land:—
These are the gifts of Time.
In sunshine or in shade,
With eyes that meet and conquer Fate's,
It tarries undismayed.
—Life's harvests, bright on either hand:
Joy changeless, deep, sublime:
Peace filling all the golden land:—
These are the gifts of Time.
The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ||