The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
 | II. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. | VII. |
| VIII. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
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.
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.
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.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |