The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
 | X. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
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| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
214
XVIII.
A PICTURE
I saw a picture of a soldier low
Upon some grisly battle-field. Tall firs
Above him smote the sky with rigid spurs;
Death reigned: and silent blood was on the snow.
A woman's form stood by him, and she held
A wreath, and loth to give it, loth to go,
She seemed,—and it might be the pure tears welled
From her heart's depths. The picture did not show.
Upon some grisly battle-field. Tall firs
Above him smote the sky with rigid spurs;
Death reigned: and silent blood was on the snow.
A woman's form stood by him, and she held
A wreath, and loth to give it, loth to go,
She seemed,—and it might be the pure tears welled
From her heart's depths. The picture did not show.
O sweet one, be thou unto me as she!
When I am lying dead upon life's snow,
Black trees above, and spots of blood below,
Come thou with the sweet song-wreath tenderly.
If but thy loving face o'er me be bent
At that still moment,—I shall be content.
When I am lying dead upon life's snow,
Black trees above, and spots of blood below,
Come thou with the sweet song-wreath tenderly.
If but thy loving face o'er me be bent
At that still moment,—I shall be content.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |