The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| II. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. | IX.
THE UNION IN NATURE AND IN MUSIC
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| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
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| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
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IX.
THE UNION IN NATURE AND IN MUSIC
Thine own soul is of Nature's realm a part,
And so we meet within that wide domain:
Our lips touch in the ripples of the rain,
Ocean's is our own ever-beating heart.
Thou crownest me with love,—I with mine Art
Crown thee, and with the music of my strain,
And with my inmost soul's thorn-crown of pain,
And with the dreams that through my spirit dart.
And so we meet within that wide domain:
Our lips touch in the ripples of the rain,
Ocean's is our own ever-beating heart.
Thou crownest me with love,—I with mine Art
Crown thee, and with the music of my strain,
And with my inmost soul's thorn-crown of pain,
And with the dreams that through my spirit dart.
Beneath the sacred stars our spirits meet
In union wonderful and calm and sweet;
But most of all when music floods the place
With its strange amorous rapture passing fair,
I feel the touch upon me of thine hair,
And sink into thy soul's superb embrace.
In union wonderful and calm and sweet;
But most of all when music floods the place
With its strange amorous rapture passing fair,
I feel the touch upon me of thine hair,
And sink into thy soul's superb embrace.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |