The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | IX. |
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NATURE AND MAN
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| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
157
NATURE AND MAN
Nay! this silvery moonlight making all your bridal room sublime
Is the moonlight of vast ages hid in dateless depths of time,
And the scent of blossoms wafted round the stainless marriage-bed
Is the breath of old-world violets and the roses that are dead.
Is the moonlight of vast ages hid in dateless depths of time,
And the scent of blossoms wafted round the stainless marriage-bed
Is the breath of old-world violets and the roses that are dead.
All of history surges through you: all the past with wings of flame
Swept resplendent through the doorway, when your sweetheart's footstep came.
In your vain conceit and fancy ye may deem yourselves alone:
Ye are watched by ghosts uncounted, ye are tracked by hosts unknown.
Swept resplendent through the doorway, when your sweetheart's footstep came.
In your vain conceit and fancy ye may deem yourselves alone:
Ye are watched by ghosts uncounted, ye are tracked by hosts unknown.
158
Sweeter are your loved one's kisses for each kiss that clung of old
In far-off forgotten woodlands, or by sands of sunlit gold:
When your darling's eyes are tender, when they shine with mystic gleams,
They resume the light and magic of dead lovers' joys and dreams.
In far-off forgotten woodlands, or by sands of sunlit gold:
When your darling's eyes are tender, when they shine with mystic gleams,
They resume the light and magic of dead lovers' joys and dreams.
When the maiden says “I love you,” she is speaking not—you hear
Man's imperious summons sounding on your heart and at your ear;
When ye stand with hands that tremble, silent lovers face to face,
Not your own wild passion urges, but the love-power of the race.
Man's imperious summons sounding on your heart and at your ear;
When ye stand with hands that tremble, silent lovers face to face,
Not your own wild passion urges, but the love-power of the race.
Kiss that human life may die not—find one hour supremely sweet
That a million souls may mingle, that a million mouths may meet:
Dreaming in your pride and rapture that ye love alone, apart,
Know that Nature triumphs with you, laughing low with amorous heart.
That a million souls may mingle, that a million mouths may meet:
Dreaming in your pride and rapture that ye love alone, apart,
Know that Nature triumphs with you, laughing low with amorous heart.
159
From your love ten thousand lovers shall draw forth a life superb:
That is why keen Nature urges, why her whispered hints perturb;
Why she lures you, why she tempts you—why her wanton hands in haste
Lift the robe from the white shoulder, loose the girdle from the waist.
That is why keen Nature urges, why her whispered hints perturb;
Why she lures you, why she tempts you—why her wanton hands in haste
Lift the robe from the white shoulder, loose the girdle from the waist.
Only one thing Nature curses, finds but one thing wholly base—
Not to aid with each man's passion the vast love-joy of the race;
To remain in lonely pureness—which, to Nature, is to be
Just a rock of lifeless granite in her star-kissed boundless sea.
Not to aid with each man's passion the vast love-joy of the race;
To remain in lonely pureness—which, to Nature, is to be
Just a rock of lifeless granite in her star-kissed boundless sea.
Just a sterile rock and deadly, spurned of Nature, mocked, abhorred:
“Let the lips grow grey that touch not woman's mouth, divine, adored;
Let the red warm life-blood leave them,—let man's eyes grow cold and dim,”
So she murmurs, “if they seek not the soft eyes that yearn for him!”
“Let the lips grow grey that touch not woman's mouth, divine, adored;
160
So she murmurs, “if they seek not the soft eyes that yearn for him!”
While the Churches scowl and mutter, Nature smiles and holds her way;
Well she knows her force resistless, knows that all worlds must obey:—
Star by star the wide heaven kindles, tree by tree grows bright with leaves,
Through the kiss of lips that perish the death-conquering race conceives.
Well she knows her force resistless, knows that all worlds must obey:—
Star by star the wide heaven kindles, tree by tree grows bright with leaves,
Through the kiss of lips that perish the death-conquering race conceives.
Lest our feet by night should stumble, she has set in heaven the moon;
Lest our souls forget to praise her, given the rose's scent to June:
Lest the race itself should vanish, lest it fail at sun or storm,
Wrapped the womb for ever fruitful in creation's loveliest form.
Lest our souls forget to praise her, given the rose's scent to June:
Lest the race itself should vanish, lest it fail at sun or storm,
Wrapped the womb for ever fruitful in creation's loveliest form.
Oct. 14, 1894.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |