The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
50
XLIV. BENEATH THE OAK
I closed my eyes in winter; when I woke,Or seemed to wake, the trees were new and green,
And many a flower was there, and glossy sheen
Of insects, each resplendent in his cloak
Of gorgeous summer, and the bird-choirs spoke,—
And I heard a woman's voice that seemed to say
—'Twill ring within me to my dying day—
“Hasten, I wait for thee beneath the oak,
I was expecting thee;” and never more
Shall any other voice be strange and sweet
As that was, though I search from shore to shore,
From the blue Arctic icebergs to the heat
Of the extreme South, and open every door,
And try the hollows of each green retreat.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |