The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| III. |
| IV. |
 | V. |
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| III. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
95
LXXXVII. NOW, HAVING SEEN THEE
Now, having seen thee, all my song is ended,—
I care no more for words, now once again
Thy sweet face, sadder, but as fair as when
First with love's vision it so softly blended,
Has met and crowned me; when we breathe quite close,
We do not sing the beauty of the rose,—
There's hardly room now, left between our lips,
E'en for this song, as forth the flutterer slips!
I care no more for words, now once again
Thy sweet face, sadder, but as fair as when
First with love's vision it so softly blended,
Has met and crowned me; when we breathe quite close,
We do not sing the beauty of the rose,—
There's hardly room now, left between our lips,
E'en for this song, as forth the flutterer slips!
I cannot speak of mine own soul; and thou
Art mine, my lady:—when the souls are one,
The long, long task of separate praise is done;
Thy glance has brought completion to my vow,—
The gaze that bade me sing, now bids me cease;
The look that worked me woe, now grants me peace.
Art mine, my lady:—when the souls are one,
The long, long task of separate praise is done;
Thy glance has brought completion to my vow,—
The gaze that bade me sing, now bids me cease;
The look that worked me woe, now grants me peace.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |