The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

All dreams of splendid music and of love
Shall be summed up, sweet gracious lady, in thee:
All hopes of youth, all visions from above,
All power of song, all strength of purity,
All wonder of soft moonlight on the sea
And majesty of noontide, and the calm
And bounty of unutterable night;
The ripple of the slow tide's evening psalm,
And the great glory of the wakening light;
The countless golden crowns whose starry might
Pervades the utmost heavens, and the pure winds
That churn the seething waters into white;—
All these wide realms of Nature thou dost sway;
The waters woo thee, and the storms obey.

242

II.

Thou bring'st me thus the strange unspoken power
Of all the universe. I hear its song
From star and stormy blast, from sun and flower,
From ripples of the lake, and from the strong
And white-lipped breakers, as one gleaming throng
They pour their serried might upon the beach;
Yet loving these, I do mine own no wrong,
For far past Nature unto her I reach,
Hearing the sweet streams in her silver speech,
And marking in her bosom the white bloom
Of every perfect rosebud—yea of each
The intense enthralling mystical perfume:
She owneth Nature, and her breath pervades
The avenues of lime and hawthorn glades.

243

III.

Thee knowing thus, I pass beyond the gaze
Of Nature and of all the world around,
And tread with thee the unseen heavenly ways,
And hear the unseen heavenly harp-strings sound
No more by earthly chains impeded, bound.
Thou art the power behind the natural veil
Of things—upon the night thy locks unwound
Stream forth, and I pursue thy figure pale
As slow from star to star thy pinions sail
Along the impurpled dark, and I can dream
So sweetly of thee that my dreams avail
To bring thee towards me, and thy kisses seem
To rest upon my lips this very night,
Warm and impassioned, dew-soft, violet-light.

244

IV.

Yea, after all these lingering lonely years,
These years while thou hast waited far away,
How great a thing, how sweet a thing appears,
That this sweet night with me thy soul doth stay,
And thou art tender, nor dost answer “Nay”
To the immemorial and untold desire
Denied through many a night and many a day;—
Now with redoubled passionate fierce fire
I wait thee, flinging from mine awestruck lyre
At length the glad sounds of a marriage hymn;
No more the words are tearful and aspire,
Now rather as a robe thine every limb,
Thine hair, thy lips, thy soul, thy perfect face,
They wrap themselves round swiftly, and embrace.

245

V.

This night thou tarriest with me; not on wings
Evasive shalt thou this night cleave the gloom!
Rest here, a gold-winged angel in my room,
And white-winged woman-spirit whom time brings
Ready at last to him who waits and sings.
Lo! thou art risen at last, love, from thy tomb,
Beautiful, glad, a flower in perfect bloom,
And in mine ear thy wedded whisper rings.

“Lo! I am coming—let the feast be ready,
The wedding furnished, and love's gold flame steady
I' the air—lo! now at last, in no sweet dream,
In mine own robe of snowy woman-whiteness
I meet unshrinking, love, the fierce dear brightness
That from thy loving conquering eyes doth stream.

246

VI.

“Yea, now I come, love, to be thine for ever:
No more to part, but through the wondrous night
To touch thee with my lips, too fond to sever,
Once having touched, and with my sacred white
Glory of womanhood thy pure delight
To be—see how the stars in sacred gladness
Share now our joy with countless glances bright!
Cast off thy past immeasurable sadness!
And reach thine hand forth and take tender hold
Of mine hand, husband—husband from of old;
And lead me into regions never seen
Of mortals, where we rule as king and queen:
Cling to me—burn throughout me with thy face,
And strong keen lips on mine no less keen place!”

247

VII.

So said she, and the far glad ether trembled,
And swift along the hills ran crimson light:
The waves laughed out for gladness nor dissembled;
In the deep utmost valleys it was bright.
But over us was sacred star-sown night
As yet—that holy veil of love we enter,
And like a floating moon her body white
Seems of that mystic universe the centre.

Now is my song completed, for no more
Pale words pursuing ripple on the shore
Of thought, but only words of worship throng
The final vestibules of sinking song,
And only thoughts of utter gladness fill
The spirit whose wild throbs will soon be still.

248

VIII.

Still, for the heart of woman giveth peace,
Peace in the end, and blessing, not sharp woe.
The days of passionate fierce seeking cease,
Wherein our pierced feet wandered to and fro,
Seeking her beauty whom at length we know
Eternally our own; the trodden places
Now far behind us redden at the glow
Of morning, as the red sun's chariot races
Along the arch of sky, and hot-wheeled chases
The white-wheeled timorous chariot of the moon:
Now watch we, smiling, in each other's faces
A light that shall be deathless glory soon
When, spirits eternal, we become a part
Of God's own deathless passionate sweet heart.