The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. | XX.
“SOME DAY I WILL TELL YOU”
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| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
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| IV. |
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| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | 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 | |