The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
 | II. |
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| I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. | XXVI. THE BITTERNESS OF LIFE
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| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| II. |
| III. |
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| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
30
XXVI. THE BITTERNESS OF LIFE
This is the bitterness of life,—to know
That Love lies not in front but far behind:
That not for violent searching shall one find
A sweet-faced rose of hope beneath time's snow,
Nor any flower of new joy below
The furrows swept by the autumnal wind,
Nor any corn-stalk when the maidens bind
The golden ears in a long laughing row.
That Love lies not in front but far behind:
That not for violent searching shall one find
A sweet-faced rose of hope beneath time's snow,
Nor any flower of new joy below
The furrows swept by the autumnal wind,
Nor any corn-stalk when the maidens bind
The golden ears in a long laughing row.
This is the bitterness of life,—to feel
The slow-limbed noisome minutes crawl away,
But not to mark by any happy peal
Of silver bells the passing of a day,
Tarrying till one more consciousness doth steal
Into death's pine-wood, damp, obscure, and grey.
The slow-limbed noisome minutes crawl away,
But not to mark by any happy peal
Of silver bells the passing of a day,
Tarrying till one more consciousness doth steal
Into death's pine-wood, damp, obscure, and grey.
Christmas Eve, 1871.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |