The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
224
MY ROSE OF THE VALLEY
Wilt thou, my Rose o' the valley, my divineSweet tender soft-lipped quiet valley-rose,
Around thy brows for wreaths the high mists twine,
And with me pierce the fathomless far snows,
Testing a land no previous lover knows?
Yea, shall we leave the trodden lower valleys
And towards the land the rising sun-flame shows
Turn sure swift steps, and thread its icy alleys,
And brave the passes whence the north wind sallies
With pure delicious cold untrammelled breath,
Where with the mountain-peaks his brides he dallies,
Whose kissing lips to mortal brides are death.
Yea, shall I kiss thee with the north wind's mouth,
Rather than amorous dull lips of the south?
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |