The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | II. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. | XIII.
THAT STRANGE NIGHT
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| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
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| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
151
XIII.
THAT STRANGE NIGHT
I.
It was but in a room;—I had been sleeping;The still night deepened,—and I was alone.
When on a sudden I awoke low-weeping,
And through and through me rang thy silver tone.
And then I saw thee, sweet one, far more clearly
Than I shall ever see again in life,
Not face to face, but soul to soul,—more nearly
Than mother is to son, or man to wife.
Then all the room was filled as with some essence
Ethereal, heavenly, fragrant and divine;—
God's own intoxicating gracious presence,
Mixed with the intoxicating sense of thine,
Pervaded every shadow of the gloom
With rose-hung arches and tempestuous bloom.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |