The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | V. |
| I. |
| II. |
| 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. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXII. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| LXXXII. |
| LXXXIII. |
| LXXXIV. |
| III. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
279
SONNET XVII
“RECORD!”
Woman herself is led astray by dreams
That lead the heart of man in turn astray.
Oh, will Night's blackness never change to day?
Shall we for ever chase elusive gleams?
Endless and vain the mad pursuing seems!
Soul after soul is born,—then hurled away,
Whither? Will Beauty's white foot ne'er delay,
Bright on an earth of flowers and sunlit streams?
That lead the heart of man in turn astray.
Oh, will Night's blackness never change to day?
Shall we for ever chase elusive gleams?
Endless and vain the mad pursuing seems!
Soul after soul is born,—then hurled away,
Whither? Will Beauty's white foot ne'er delay,
Bright on an earth of flowers and sunlit streams?
Eternal Beauty, whom I wildly sought
When in my youth the long search first began.
If all my passionate seeking counts for nought,
That I was blinded by fierce light record,
By over-trust, by over-zeal, a man
Throughout whose heart tumultuous love was poured.
When in my youth the long search first began.
If all my passionate seeking counts for nought,
That I was blinded by fierce light record,
By over-trust, by over-zeal, a man
Throughout whose heart tumultuous love was poured.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |