The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
201
“WHEN ALL THE TOIL IS ENDED”
When all the toil is ended, I will leave
This dreary land for ever,—I will go
Beyond the regions where the wet winds grieve
To lands of golden morn and crimson eve,
Beyond the snow!
This dreary land for ever,—I will go
Beyond the regions where the wet winds grieve
To lands of golden morn and crimson eve,
Beyond the snow!
To regions where the summer roses blow
Safe from our darkling weather's changeful stain
And where with silvery voice the clear streams flow
And through the moonlit night the lilies grow,
Beyond all pain,
Safe from our darkling weather's changeful stain
And where with silvery voice the clear streams flow
And through the moonlit night the lilies grow,
Beyond all pain,
I'll pass; and through the sunlit days I'll gain
Health, and the happier sense of lovelier things
Than those that under the fog's dreary reign
Struggle: I'll rest where in some leafy lane
The throstle sings.
Health, and the happier sense of lovelier things
Than those that under the fog's dreary reign
Struggle: I'll rest where in some leafy lane
The throstle sings.
202
Paris shall close me round with sun-bright wings
And soothe me with soft laughter, and her eyes
Full of all glory woman's love-glance brings
Shall waken old lost joys of far-off springs
And far-off skies.
And soothe me with soft laughter, and her eyes
Full of all glory woman's love-glance brings
Shall waken old lost joys of far-off springs
And far-off skies.
And Italy shall on my vision rise
And deathless Rome; yea, blue Italian seas
O'er which the Southern light-winged zephyr flies,
Waters o'er which the gondola swift hies,
Mountains and trees:
And deathless Rome; yea, blue Italian seas
O'er which the Southern light-winged zephyr flies,
Waters o'er which the gondola swift hies,
Mountains and trees:
And then to Paris and her joyous breeze
I will return, for all my heart is there;
An exile from her streets and sunny leas
I pine in these thick streets and fields that freeze
For her sweet air.
I will return, for all my heart is there;
An exile from her streets and sunny leas
I pine in these thick streets and fields that freeze
For her sweet air.
Paris, O Paris, thou to me wast fair
When as a boy I wandered through thy ways!
Now that the grey is mixing with my hair
I would once more be calm and happy where
I knew bright days.
When as a boy I wandered through thy ways!
Now that the grey is mixing with my hair
I would once more be calm and happy where
I knew bright days.
1882.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |