The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
![]() | III. |
![]() | IV. |
![]() | V. |
![]() | VI. |
![]() | VII. |
![]() | VIII. |
![]() | IX. |
![]() | X. |
![]() | XI. |
![]() | The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ![]() |
23
II.
No city sent from heaven as a brideIs mine, but poor, and needing the attire
That I may weave for her in songs of fire
Before she can be unto love allied,
Meet for a hero's and a husband's side,
Able towards her own sunset to aspire.
I found her draggled, slip-shod, in the mire,
Her pure potential sovereignty denied,
And vowed myself to raise her; therefore I,
Brought down from Isis unto where the Thames
For many an arch her stately descent stems,
Will celebrate my London till I die,
If haply o'er her head without a sigh
Some day may flame the sunset diadems.
![]() | The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ![]() |