The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
 | VI. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
54
XLVIII. “INTENSITY”
“What shall I give him?” So a maiden said—
“With brave pure labour he sang songs of me;
What shall my final tear-touched token be,
Now that he lies pale, voiceless, heedless, dead?
Shall it be some ripe rose of loveliest red,
Or snowdrop drooping petals tenderly,
Or blue-grey valiant thistle from the sea
Beside whose waves our wandering steps were led?”
“With brave pure labour he sang songs of me;
What shall my final tear-touched token be,
Now that he lies pale, voiceless, heedless, dead?
Shall it be some ripe rose of loveliest red,
Or snowdrop drooping petals tenderly,
Or blue-grey valiant thistle from the sea
Beside whose waves our wandering steps were led?”
So doubted she: but then there came a voice,
An audible direction from the air,
Saying, “Thy first thought was the seemlier choice;
No snow-white name I gave to him to bear,
In no calm crown of lilies to rejoice,
But my rose-wreathed intensity to share.”
An audible direction from the air,
Saying, “Thy first thought was the seemlier choice;
No snow-white name I gave to him to bear,
In no calm crown of lilies to rejoice,
But my rose-wreathed intensity to share.”
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |