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Poems Real and Ideal

By George Barlow

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232

II. ALONE.

Yea, next, my love shall come to me alone,
Dividing herself from all friends and kin:
So passion's supreme pleasure we shall win,
And watch God, without trembling, on his throne.
Then shalt thou be, my lady sweet, mine own;—
Then all the fierce sad seasons that have been,
Heavy with sorrow, dark or red with sin,
Shall vanish, like pale mists to nightward blown.
All these, thy friends of youth, thou shalt forsake,—
Husband and home, and mother,—and shalt take
Thine own sweet soul, that only, in thine hand:—
This shalt thou in the far sure future do;
Ages may pass-yet God's word shall come true;
One day thou shalt arise at Love's command.
April 27, 1876.