The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
 | X. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
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| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
243
SONNET XI
“FOR GOOD OR EVIL”
For good or evil, yea for joy or shame,
For bright truth spoken, or shameless folly and lie,
No city ever yet beneath God's sky
On God's vast womanhood put in a claim
So heavy. Christ's pure dreams and Satan's game
Here blend unceasingly. More women crown
With grace and beauty this our marvellous town
Than earth has ever seen, or star can name.
For bright truth spoken, or shameless folly and lie,
No city ever yet beneath God's sky
On God's vast womanhood put in a claim
So heavy. Christ's pure dreams and Satan's game
Here blend unceasingly. More women crown
With grace and beauty this our marvellous town
Than earth has ever seen, or star can name.
Most strange, most wonderful! O Wordsworth, bard
Of womanless dim mountains, what a theme
For nobler song is here in streets that teem
With sweet magnetic power that can be felt
By those who can their surface self discard,
That Woman's magic through brain-cells may melt.
Of womanless dim mountains, what a theme
For nobler song is here in streets that teem
With sweet magnetic power that can be felt
By those who can their surface self discard,
That Woman's magic through brain-cells may melt.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |