The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
105
ONE WOMAN
They knew him not: do blossoms understand
The hand that plucks them and that finds them fair?
Do the waves apprehend the stedfast land,—
The birds the air?
The hand that plucks them and that finds them fair?
Do the waves apprehend the stedfast land,—
The birds the air?
They knew him not: although their tender eyes
Seemed sometimes with soft passionate haze to swim;
Although with gracious words and gentle guise
They followed him.
Seemed sometimes with soft passionate haze to swim;
Although with gracious words and gentle guise
They followed him.
What can the blossoms understand of fire?
The gentle doves of swift devouring flame?
But one great heart was great as his desire:
One woman came.
The gentle doves of swift devouring flame?
But one great heart was great as his desire:
One woman came.
106
One fiery spirit smote his own with light
And stood before him and was not afraid;
Most passionate, yet most pure; most strong, yet white;
Divinely made.
And stood before him and was not afraid;
Most passionate, yet most pure; most strong, yet white;
Divinely made.
They mingled each with each in awful sleep
And knew each other's very inmost soul:
Then parted like great sundering waves that leap
Lone to the goal.
And knew each other's very inmost soul:
Then parted like great sundering waves that leap
Lone to the goal.
But still they bore away the flame and fire
Of each; through each the other's force was poured.
The one was strengthened with sublime desire,
Renewed, restored:
Of each; through each the other's force was poured.
The one was strengthened with sublime desire,
Renewed, restored:
The other's heart was softened as he lay
Within the woman's arms so grand and pure,
And one white rose of love he bore away
That shall endure.
Within the woman's arms so grand and pure,
And one white rose of love he bore away
That shall endure.
And ever in sorrow this great woman's heart
Was with him when the others fled and failed:
Hard at him lunged grim pain's remorseless dart,—
She never quailed.
Was with him when the others fled and failed:
Hard at him lunged grim pain's remorseless dart,—
She never quailed.
107
And when his hair with all the night's harsh dew
Was wet, she stood beside him in the field;
Stood, till once more heaven's midday cloudless blue
Burned on his shield.
Was wet, she stood beside him in the field;
Stood, till once more heaven's midday cloudless blue
Burned on his shield.
And she would wind about him tender hands,
And bring him blossoms fairer than a dream,
And lift his spirit towards immortal lands
Where great suns beam.
And bring him blossoms fairer than a dream,
And lift his spirit towards immortal lands
Where great suns beam.
Her heart was not as common hearts that glow,
Then in one day the ephemeral rapture fades:
But she was one with him through joy and woe,—
Through sunlit glades
Then in one day the ephemeral rapture fades:
But she was one with him through joy and woe,—
Through sunlit glades
And through the dark defiles of sin and death
She helped her singer on his perilous way,
Making the lone vales blossom with her breath,—
Making night day:
She helped her singer on his perilous way,
Making the lone vales blossom with her breath,—
Making night day:
For she immortal and of ceaseless charm
Knew how to wake to might or lull to sleep;
Ever within the circle of her arm
Was rapture deep:
Knew how to wake to might or lull to sleep;
Ever within the circle of her arm
Was rapture deep:
108
Red bloom of sin and terror drove her not
From the sad singer's weary side in fear;
She cleansed his life from fleck and stain and spot,
With many a tear:
From the sad singer's weary side in fear;
She cleansed his life from fleck and stain and spot,
With many a tear:
Nought severed: but the eternal souls were one
And shall be,—while the ages speed or creep,—
Through flight of moon and race of fiery sun,—
Till all stars sleep.
And shall be,—while the ages speed or creep,—
Through flight of moon and race of fiery sun,—
Till all stars sleep.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |