The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
 | XI. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
79
IV. AT A GRAVE
A young world's laughter rang at summer's word:
My heart within me grew most strangely stirred
While life that left the dead form flowed through one
Full of the rose and splendid with the sun.
Beauty that once had flowered in perfect bloom
Within that darkling cavern slept in gloom;
The eyes that held all hearts with starlike flame
Knew not what stars had set, nor what stars came;
The lips that, speaking, chained, the hands that drew,
One with the unpitying earth in silence grew;
Immortal beauty, mortal found alas!
Mixed with the mould and blended with the grass;
The charm we thought would mock the conquering years
Now wins no tribute save the gift of tears.
My heart within me grew most strangely stirred
While life that left the dead form flowed through one
Full of the rose and splendid with the sun.
Beauty that once had flowered in perfect bloom
Within that darkling cavern slept in gloom;
The eyes that held all hearts with starlike flame
Knew not what stars had set, nor what stars came;
The lips that, speaking, chained, the hands that drew,
One with the unpitying earth in silence grew;
Immortal beauty, mortal found alas!
Mixed with the mould and blended with the grass;
The charm we thought would mock the conquering years
Now wins no tribute save the gift of tears.
But by the grave above the ill-omened earth
Stands sovereign morning, not with morning's mirth
But, ten times sweeter, ten times more divine,
With downcast eyes wherein the soft tears shine.
With more than summer in most perfect smile
Beside a girl's grave pauses for awhile
A girl; around her all the glad world gleams;
Her pitying eyes grow tender while she dreams
Of dreams that shone through eyes that never more
Will watch green hills, blue waters, golden shore.
Stands sovereign morning, not with morning's mirth
80
With downcast eyes wherein the soft tears shine.
With more than summer in most perfect smile
Beside a girl's grave pauses for awhile
A girl; around her all the glad world gleams;
Her pitying eyes grow tender while she dreams
Of dreams that shone through eyes that never more
Will watch green hills, blue waters, golden shore.
She brings the dark world news: she tells the graves
Of sunlit laughter on a thousand waves
Death clouds not ever,—she brings the dead girl dreams
Of moonlit whispers in a thousand streams,
Of radiant summer tinging every leaf
With hues that know not death, that dread not grief,
Secrets by her pure soul from Nature won,
Love from the stars, a greeting from the sun.
Still doth the eternal life by its own laws
Proceed, with never check, no lasting pause.
Where beauty vanished deep within the gloom,
Lo! beauty stands. Where ruled the iron-browed tomb,
Where Winter reigned, behold Spring's sun-kissed skies
And deathless light in unimagined eyes.
Deep thanks I render. I, brow-wreathed with night,
Past language weary, rest within thy light.
Dark-eyed sweet sorceress, friend whose help bestowed
Turned wandering footsteps towards a happier road,
My love, mine Iseult, for thy birth-star gleamed
On those same waters where dead Iseult dreamed,
For thee I tarry; as the thunder's car
Changes its course and pauses at a star.
Of sunlit laughter on a thousand waves
Death clouds not ever,—she brings the dead girl dreams
Of moonlit whispers in a thousand streams,
Of radiant summer tinging every leaf
With hues that know not death, that dread not grief,
Secrets by her pure soul from Nature won,
Love from the stars, a greeting from the sun.
Still doth the eternal life by its own laws
Proceed, with never check, no lasting pause.
Where beauty vanished deep within the gloom,
Lo! beauty stands. Where ruled the iron-browed tomb,
Where Winter reigned, behold Spring's sun-kissed skies
And deathless light in unimagined eyes.
81
Past language weary, rest within thy light.
Dark-eyed sweet sorceress, friend whose help bestowed
Turned wandering footsteps towards a happier road,
My love, mine Iseult, for thy birth-star gleamed
On those same waters where dead Iseult dreamed,
For thee I tarry; as the thunder's car
Changes its course and pauses at a star.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |