The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
206
X.
SOUL-PAIN
To-day my heart is broken,—and I feel
No rest in love, no recompence in song:
The slow sick weary moments crawl along;
Not one can answer my forlorn appeal.
And thou art far away whose spirit strong
Brings hope and light and comfort:—now these steal
Away from me, a shivering ghostlike throng,
And no sweet God would answer,—did I kneel.
No rest in love, no recompence in song:
The slow sick weary moments crawl along;
Not one can answer my forlorn appeal.
And thou art far away whose spirit strong
Brings hope and light and comfort:—now these steal
Away from me, a shivering ghostlike throng,
And no sweet God would answer,—did I kneel.
O heart, heart, heart,—that triest to understand,—
Keep thou for ever from the genius-land,
And mingle not with agony like mine!
“A bay-wreathed poet” means a brow that drips
With blood for ever. Kiss not thou my lips,
Lest the eternal poet's-doom be thine.
Keep thou for ever from the genius-land,
And mingle not with agony like mine!
“A bay-wreathed poet” means a brow that drips
With blood for ever. Kiss not thou my lips,
Lest the eternal poet's-doom be thine.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |