The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | V. |
| I. |
| II. |
| I. |
| II. |
| 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. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXII. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| LXXXII. |
| LXXXIII. |
| LXXXIV. |
| III. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
224
XXVIII.
NOW
Because thou hast been “in the open,” now
Shalt thou find all thine “harbour” safe and sweet.
Enter therein, O love, with fearless feet:
Lay up therein thy vessel's foam-swept prow!
Peace and reward the approving gods allow;
Soft shall thy rest be after burning heat
Of summer,—glad the flowers in thy retreat.
See! this fair rose I bind about thy brow.
Shalt thou find all thine “harbour” safe and sweet.
Enter therein, O love, with fearless feet:
Lay up therein thy vessel's foam-swept prow!
Peace and reward the approving gods allow;
Soft shall thy rest be after burning heat
Of summer,—glad the flowers in thy retreat.
See! this fair rose I bind about thy brow.
O lady,—“vessel” of mine now coming “home,”
Bringing me richest treasures from the East,
Thy thin stem cutting the receding foam,—
Love waits, and spreads us a thrice-glorious feast.
Thou art bright with sunsets over loneliest sea,
And with those sighing sunsets crownest me.
Bringing me richest treasures from the East,
Thy thin stem cutting the receding foam,—
Love waits, and spreads us a thrice-glorious feast.
Thou art bright with sunsets over loneliest sea,
And with those sighing sunsets crownest me.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |