Poems Real and Ideal By George Barlow |
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| XIV. |
| XVII. |
| XIX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
 | XLIV, XLV, XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
SONNET XLVII.
ALL OVER AGAIN. |
| LI. |
| LIV. |
| LVII. |
| LIX. |
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 | Poems Real and Ideal |  |
91
SONNET XLVII. ALL OVER AGAIN.
A poet thought:—“Ah! to start quite afresh!
To die to the old passions and begin
In some new city a new life to win!
To break from every old entangling mesh!
No more 'mid London's rough discordant din
To love,—but in white Paris or in Rome
Or Venice—anywhere far off from home—
To gather a golden new love-harvest in!
To die to the old passions and begin
In some new city a new life to win!
To break from every old entangling mesh!
No more 'mid London's rough discordant din
To love,—but in white Paris or in Rome
Or Venice—anywhere far off from home—
To gather a golden new love-harvest in!
“Oh, I could love”—he thought—“as though I ne'er
Had loved before,—within me doth remain
Limitless youth: I could meet woman's eyes
As a glad boy of fourteen meets June skies
Upon a holiday morning:—in the air
Of Italy I could love all over again!”
Had loved before,—within me doth remain
Limitless youth: I could meet woman's eyes
As a glad boy of fourteen meets June skies
Upon a holiday morning:—in the air
Of Italy I could love all over again!”
| Poems Real and Ideal | |