The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

O thou whose heart, here wrapped in saddest gloom,
I sought to help upon its sunless way
And cheer by rumours of the golden day
That waited just outside thy darkened room,
Thou who now standest, conqueror of the tomb,
Above all sorrow, far beyond the sway
Of this dim dream of life that fills with grey
Harsh scentless tints our flowers that barely bloom,—
If thou canst turn aside a moment's space
From high work fashioned underneath the sun
Flame with the glory of thy gaze on one
Who loved on earth heaven's calm within thy face:
Now that for me life's brighter hours are done
Hold thou my hand, while through dark paths I pace.

Jan. 13, 1902.