The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
 | XI. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
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| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
236
VII.
For have I not through troublous seasons waited,Soothing my lonely spirit with my song,
A warrior worn with fight, a bard belated,
Weary with woes, a tempest-wingéd throng,
And endless adverse foam-crowned surges strong?
Have I not wandered through the forests dreary,
Seeking the bud that to me did belong—
The blossom that I loved within the eerie
Old forest-walls before life, wingless, weary,
Fell like a robe upon us, and we knew
The stifling vales of earth for the vast airy
High meads, we sped on spotless pinions through
Ages before, at fateful birth, we died,
Life severing me from my celestial bride.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |