The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| IX. | IX.
“CHRISTMAS EVE AND NEW YEAR'S DAY” |
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| XI. |
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| XIV. |
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| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
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| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
89
IX. “CHRISTMAS EVE AND NEW YEAR'S DAY”
Christmas Eve and New Year's Day
Both in one
Bade the shadows flee away,
Brought me sun:
Both in one
Bade the shadows flee away,
Brought me sun:
Brought me many thoughts and dreams
Glad and bright;
Silver voice of summer streams
Through the night;
Glad and bright;
Silver voice of summer streams
Through the night;
Scent of many a rose in bloom
Through the day:
Changed to glorious light the gloom
And the grey:
Through the day:
Changed to glorious light the gloom
And the grey:
Woke again within my heart
Clear and strong
What had threatened to depart,
Passion's song:
Clear and strong
What had threatened to depart,
Passion's song:
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Lit once more the starlike thought
In my brain,
Which exulted to be brought
Once again;
In my brain,
Which exulted to be brought
Once again;
Thought I had not known for years,
Pure and sweet;
Thought that brings the sudden tears
To repeat;
Pure and sweet;
Thought that brings the sudden tears
To repeat;
Thought that after all the days
And their whirl
Of despair and blank amaze,
Just a girl
And their whirl
Of despair and blank amaze,
Just a girl
With the emerald in her eyes
Mixed with gleam
Of the agate as it lies
In the stream,
Mixed with gleam
Of the agate as it lies
In the stream,
With the darkness in her hair
Of the night,
On her lips the morning's fair
Rosy light,
Of the night,
On her lips the morning's fair
Rosy light,
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Hope with tender hands might save
From the tomb,
Open heaven beyond the grave
And its gloom:
From the tomb,
Open heaven beyond the grave
And its gloom:
Just the thought it would be sweet,
Passing fair,
To lie wounded at her feet,
Dying there,
Passing fair,
To lie wounded at her feet,
Dying there,
So the death might bring her bliss,
Bliss divine,
And by love's eternal kiss
Make her mine.
Bliss divine,
And by love's eternal kiss
Make her mine.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |