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 |  |
26
II.
Then Paradise was angry, and she turnedWith a majestic tossing of her head.
Not through those golden gates shall I be led:
No home for me in that high city spurned,
Nor choice amid the costly tapers burned
That round about sweet wealth of incense shed,
Nor any cunning cloak of white or red,
Nor harp for which my former spirit yearned.
But, hearken all, for here is my reward:
In that I took the lowly for my bride,
The humble present, she hath made me lord
Of many a future season's pomp and pride,
And made me master of her keen-edged sword
Of song, to wear in triumph at my side.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |