The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| LXXXI. |
| LXXXII. |
| LXXXIII. |
| LXXXIV. |
| LXXXV. |
| LXXXVI. |
| LXXXVII. |
| LXXXVIII. |
| LXXXIX. |
| XC. |
| XCI. |
| XCII. |
| XCIII. |
| XCIV. |
| XCV. |
| XCVI. |
| XCVII. |
| XCVIII. |
| XCIX. |
| C. |
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| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
173
SONNET XIII
A PORTRAIT
Full of child-thoughts, and glad at simple things,—
Not versed in deep things;—well content to be
In green woods or green meadows, or to see
The painted butterfly spread sportive wings:
Happy in all the joy the blue sky brings,
And full of an unfathomed purity:
Not clever, great, or learned,—but to me
Fairer than jewelled queens to mighty kings:—
Not versed in deep things;—well content to be
In green woods or green meadows, or to see
The painted butterfly spread sportive wings:
Happy in all the joy the blue sky brings,
And full of an unfathomed purity:
Not clever, great, or learned,—but to me
Fairer than jewelled queens to mighty kings:—
Such is the child: a very simple flower,—
Flaunting no petals flushed with garish red;
Full ne'ertheless of her own quiet power,
Serenely blossoming on her own calm bower,
And flinging from her sunlit golden head
Light that transfigures many a mortal hour.
Flaunting no petals flushed with garish red;
Full ne'ertheless of her own quiet power,
Serenely blossoming on her own calm bower,
And flinging from her sunlit golden head
Light that transfigures many a mortal hour.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |