The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
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| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. | XIV.
JOINED SPIRITS
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| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
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| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
50
XIV.
JOINED SPIRITS
No more as separate souls we move along,—
The work of blending is divinely done;
From now till setting of our earthly sun
Joined are our voices in one wedding-song.
Thou art to me my whiteness,—I thy strong
Singer through whom thy laurel-wreath is won;
By thee my robe of victory is spun,
And mine are the swift thoughts that round thee throng.
The work of blending is divinely done;
From now till setting of our earthly sun
Joined are our voices in one wedding-song.
Thou art to me my whiteness,—I thy strong
Singer through whom thy laurel-wreath is won;
By thee my robe of victory is spun,
And mine are the swift thoughts that round thee throng.
Never, though all the ages stormed foam-white
Upon our path, should they the souls divide:
Through all eternity thou art my Bride
And I thy stronghold,—thou my soft delight,—
I am thine armour and thou art my shield;
Even so we traverse the hard-foughten field.
Upon our path, should they the souls divide:
Through all eternity thou art my Bride
And I thy stronghold,—thou my soft delight,—
I am thine armour and thou art my shield;
Even so we traverse the hard-foughten field.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |