The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
212
TEN YEARS
Ten years—ten years! What is it but a dream?A long strange dream of blossoms and of frost,
Blue skies and thunder, summer and a gleam
Of heaven and love at times, as quickly lost
As found—swift backward on black pain-waves tossed.
Oh, what are ten years but one mortal spray
Of meadow-sweet flung white against the tomb
That gathers all sweet petals, pure perfume,
Into its hollow arms from day to day,
Laughing as with cold teeth pale bloom from bloom
It severs, and the thin films faint away
Into death's desolate nefarious gloom,
Joining the prisoners sweet in long array
Whom year by year he gathers—to consume.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |