The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
![]() | III. |
![]() | IV. |
![]() | V. |
![]() | VI. |
![]() | VII. |
![]() | VIII. |
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![]() | IX. |
![]() | X. |
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![]() | The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ![]() |
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XX.
“SOME DAY I WILL TELL YOU”
Yes; tell me all. For every thought of thine
Is unto me a flower I long to hold,
And thy past life is as a cup of gold
Brimming for me with sparkling joyous wine.
Yes; tell me what thy sorrows were of old!
Press deep thy thorn-crown! Make its red points mine!
Wear thou my bays and buds of eglantine;
Rob me, despoil me thou—sweet thief, be bold!
Is unto me a flower I long to hold,
And thy past life is as a cup of gold
Brimming for me with sparkling joyous wine.
Yes; tell me what thy sorrows were of old!
Press deep thy thorn-crown! Make its red points mine!
Wear thou my bays and buds of eglantine;
Rob me, despoil me thou—sweet thief, be bold!
For then it shall be well with us. I wear
This wreath whose lingering blood-drops soil thine hair,
Whose raven-black, unsoiled, I love to see:
Thou takest flowers that thou dost need the more
Because their gracious bloom came not before.
Take thou my roses. Give thy thorns to me.
This wreath whose lingering blood-drops soil thine hair,
Whose raven-black, unsoiled, I love to see:
Thou takest flowers that thou dost need the more
Because their gracious bloom came not before.
Take thou my roses. Give thy thorns to me.
![]() | The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ![]() |