The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

O bright-eyed child whose laughter
Rings down the lanes of May,
Thou hast the whole hereafter
Spread out for toil and play:
The hours and flowers and bowers of the long summer day.

II

All life is yet before thee:
The dawn is in the sky:
The earliest gold hangs o'er thee
And the first breezes fly;
Not yet regret with jet strange threatening locks is nigh.

228

III

What blossoms wilt thou gather?
For all are here to choose:
Pale lilies, blue-bells, heather,—
All kinds and varied hues,—
For thee we see the lea its banks with bloom suffuse!

IV

Wilt thou be prince or poet?
All paths are open now.
Fate, though thou dost not know it,
Will crown thy white broad brow
With bays for lays, or sprays of love from myrtle bough:—

V

Just as thou wilt: the morning
Gives thee the choice of each.
Swift yet sufficient warning
Thou hast:—thine arms may reach
Delight of white and bright soft blossoms beyond speech.

229

VI

About thee still the beauty
Of fresh-robed April clings.
All May's and June's glad booty
May added be to spring's,
O child enisled in wild strange dreams of many things.

VII

The greatest of all glories
Thou hast within thine hand.
Thou knowest not where Love's store is,
Nor yet dost understand
How beams and gleams through dreams passion's enchanted land.

VIII

As thou advancest slowly
Along the brightening way,
Fair love, white-winged and holy,
Will meet thee, on a day,
And thou shalt bow and vow thine utmost heart away!

230

IX

The very flowers adore thee:
They know so well indeed
What flowery paths before thee
To fragrant paths succeed,
By hill and rill and mill and yellow-spotted mead.

X

When manhood comes, and passion
Comes with it, all will be
Spread out in splendid fashion,
Untouched, in front of thee:
Bright blue of hue and new will gleam the boundless sea.

XI

As if God just now, solely
For thee, had made the world,
Its grandeur will be wholly
In front of thee unfurled.
For thee each tree will be with Eden's dews impearled.

231

XII

The road thou art beginning
This radiant dawn of May
Hath treasures worth the winning,
Though Death with quiver grey
Hath power o'er flower and bower, when closes the long day.

XIII

Yet, ere the long day closes,
What rapture may be won!
What fragrance of soft roses
Gathered as yet by none!
What light of bright and white imperishable sun!

XIV

Ere the moon rises slowly
Above the purple hill
What pure delights and holy
May all thy strong heart fill,
If thou from now wilt vow to Love thine utmost will!

232

XV

Ere the night's gold stars greet thee
And the deep-blue dim night,
What joys may throng and meet thee
With hands and bosoms white,—
Thee found and bound and crowned of infinite delight!

XVI

What deeds of priceless daring
Thy young heart may achieve!
Forth on the long road faring
From crimson morn till eve,
High fame, no tame poor name, behind thee thou mayest leave!

XVII

By far-off lakes and rivers,—
Through burning wastes of sand
Where the hot mirage quivers,—
In many a wild weird land,—
At head of red outspread fierce warriors thou mayest stand!

233

XVIII

The furthest East may know thee
And watch thy gleaming sword:
The gladdened West may owe thee
High thanks and proud reward:
As leader thee the sea may honour, and as lord.

XIX

Or else the god Apollo
May crown thine head with bays.
Him thou mayest alway follow
Through sweet and rosehung ways,
And fill and thrill and still the world with sovereign lays.

XX

While others in their fashion
Are seeking lesser things,
With great imperious passion
And strong unhindered wings
The sun alone and throne of earth's high bay-crowned kings

234

XXI

Thou shalt seek. This it may be
Lies, child, in front of thee.
Eternal may thy day be;
Thy voice as is the sea,
Or tone and moan of blown green-grey wind-smitten tree.

XXII

The winds that round our meadows
And iron cliff-sides beat;
The evening's lengthening shadows;
The hush of noon-tide heat;
The song of throng of strong bright gold-haired ears of wheat;

XXIII

The glory of the morning;
The mystic calm of night;
The tides the loud shore scorning;
The tender snowdrop white;
The speech of beech, and each glad summer's blossoms bright;

235

XXIV

The beauty of all women;
The beauty of soft skies;
The blue-backed swallow skimming
The pond; the dragon-flies;
The green dim sheen half-seen that on the far hill lies;

XXV

The pulse of blood that quickens
At the dense driving spray
Of battle when it thickens
And the blue sword-blades play
And flash and crash and dash the hot shells every way;

XXVI

The pulse of love that trembles
At a young girl's soft tone;
Passion that ne'er dissembles
But claims her for its own;
The height and might and light of Love's imperial throne;

236

XXVII

The glory of life advancing
With strength that knows no bound,
From height to far height glancing,
From green to rocky mound,
Till where the air is fair and free God's rest is found;—

XXVIII

All this thou mayest succeed to,
And fairer things than these,
If thou wilt but give heed to
Fate's whispers in the trees
And be as free as the far fetterless grey seas.

XXIX

Thou hast thy country's glory
Behind thee and before:
Past ages grand and hoary;
A new untraversed shore;
Thou mayest the waste untraced inherit and explore.

237

XXX

Shall it be bright with flowers
And fervent with the sun
And full of love-sweet bowers
Whereo'er green creepers run?
Shall it be lit by fit high starry proud deeds done?

XXXI

The whole on thee dependeth:
The future in thine hand
Lies: ere the long road endeth
Thine heart will understand
Each place, and trace all ways and windings of the land.

XXXII

And at the far end waiteth
For thee, child,—yes, for thee,—
When strenuous toil abateth,
The Bride thou canst not see:
Her breast gives rest from quest and joy and agony.

238

XXXIII

Her hands are soft and tender;
Her eyes are calm and deep;
If thou wilt quite surrender,
She'll soothe thee into sleep:
No voice of joys, nor noise of men who wail and weep

XXXIV

Shall pierce thy perfect slumber:—
As now thine eyelids close
While visions without number
Flit o'er thee, living rose,
Most pure, secure, and sure shall be thy then repose.

XXXV

See that thy life be fairer
Than most poor frail lives be:
So shall that kiss be rarer
That in the end for thee
Waits,—when all men pass then,—and Death stays; only she.