The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| “THE ASTRAL BODY”
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| II. |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
207
“THE ASTRAL BODY”
TWO SONNETS
I.
The astral body rests within our own
And sometimes flashes through the outer folds.
All things it rules, all matter's forms it moulds;
The earth is unto it subservient throne.
Through its pure flesh the scents of flowers unknown
Can travel,—yea, it gathers from the flowers
Their sweetness, and in love's embrace it showers
Their fragrance on the form its kisses crown.
And sometimes flashes through the outer folds.
All things it rules, all matter's forms it moulds;
The earth is unto it subservient throne.
Through its pure flesh the scents of flowers unknown
Can travel,—yea, it gathers from the flowers
Their sweetness, and in love's embrace it showers
Their fragrance on the form its kisses crown.
There are who even on this earth of ours
The pure eternal spirit-form have won,
The risen form as radiant as the sun
And gifted with unfathomable powers,—
The form that every blossom of earth's bowers
Builds up, from soft bloom-atoms woven and spun.
The pure eternal spirit-form have won,
The risen form as radiant as the sun
And gifted with unfathomable powers,—
The form that every blossom of earth's bowers
Builds up, from soft bloom-atoms woven and spun.
208
II.
This is why woman with her subtle grace,
Her robe of tenderest flesh, in this our day
Hath gained the power to gather and convey
So strange a mystic sweetness,—not of face
Alone, but rather memories of some place
Beyond the stars, beyond the sun's red ray,
Beyond blue ocean, regions far away
That hold dim records of another race.
Her robe of tenderest flesh, in this our day
Hath gained the power to gather and convey
So strange a mystic sweetness,—not of face
Alone, but rather memories of some place
Beyond the stars, beyond the sun's red ray,
Beyond blue ocean, regions far away
That hold dim records of another race.
The angel-form within her form revives:
The old strange beauty now at last returns,
The scent of Eden's roses, Eden's ferns,
The clear remembrance of forgotten lives.
Aye, while man marvels, victory arrives
And Eden's light through the old tree-vistas burns.
The old strange beauty now at last returns,
The scent of Eden's roses, Eden's ferns,
The clear remembrance of forgotten lives.
Aye, while man marvels, victory arrives
And Eden's light through the old tree-vistas burns.
July 31, 1901.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |