The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| I. |
| II. | II.
HEAVEN AND HELL
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| XVIII. |
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| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
140
II.
HEAVEN AND HELL
I woke, having dreamed that I was left alone,
And timidly outstretched a searching hand
And searching eyes,—but felt that I was fanned
By the breath of morning, and a silver tone
Came sweet to reassure me.—Ah! mine own,
What a reaction had God's genius planned!
What an uplifting from the murky land
Into green meadows softly overblown!
And timidly outstretched a searching hand
And searching eyes,—but felt that I was fanned
By the breath of morning, and a silver tone
Came sweet to reassure me.—Ah! mine own,
What a reaction had God's genius planned!
What an uplifting from the murky land
Into green meadows softly overblown!
And then I knew the difference was this,—
Just this swift difference and nothing more,—
Between hell's horror and the silver shore
Of heaven; even that between the bliss
Of being loved and lips I thought no kiss
Would ever teach to wonder and adore.
Just this swift difference and nothing more,—
Between hell's horror and the silver shore
Of heaven; even that between the bliss
Of being loved and lips I thought no kiss
Would ever teach to wonder and adore.
1871.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |