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Poems Real and Ideal

By George Barlow
Barlow, George

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[section]
  
DEDICATION. TO JOHN ALEXANDER BLENCOWE,
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MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS.
 XIV. 
SONNET XIV. TO IRELAND.
 XVII. 
SONNET XVII. THE GHOSTLY ARMIES.
 XIX. 
SONNET XIX. AN EASTERN YEARNING.
 XXI. 
SONNET XXI. GOD AND WOMAN.
 XXII. 
SONNET XXII. GOD.
 XXIII. 
SONNET XXIII. FORSAKEN.
 XXVII. 
SONNET XXVII. THE SONG-BRIDE.
 XXVIII. 
SONNET XXVIII. ALONE.
 XXIX. 
SONNET XXIX. RELIGION AND ART.
 XXX. 
SONNET XXX. IN ST. JAMES'S PARK.
collapse sectionXLIV, XLV, XLVI. 
SONNETS XLIV., XLV., XLVI. A MORAL VICTORY: AND ITS RESULT.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 XLVII. 
SONNET XLVII. ALL OVER AGAIN.
 LI. 
SONNET LI. FORGOTTEN JESUS.
 LIV. 
SONNET LIV. THE COQUETTE-WORLD.
 LVII. 
SONNET LVII. HEAVEN AND WOMAN.
 LIX. 
SONNET LIX. LOST RICHES.
  
SONNET. IN BOHEMIA: A CONTRAST.
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SONNETS.
 IV. 
IV. THE ONE STAR.
  
THY SPANISH LOVES.
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SEVEN SONNETS.
 II. 
II. CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.
 IV. 
IV. THE DAY OF THANKSGIVING: AFTER THE EGYPTIAN WAR OF 1882.
 VI. 
VI. FOR VICTOR HUGO'S EIGHTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 1883.
 VII. 
VII. WILLIAM GOULDSTONE.
  
A WINTER VISION.
  
A WINTER SONG.
  
AND YET.
  
MIRROR AND ROSE.
  
THE KING.
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TWO SONNETS.
 I. 
I. TO-NIGHT.
 II. 
II. ALONE.
  
A RUSSIAN WOMAN TO A RUSSIAN NIHILIST.
  
POETRY AND SCIENCE.
  
SOPHIA PEROVSKAIA.
  
GELIABOFF.
  
IRELAND TO ENGLAND.
 XX. 
SONNET XX. “IT IS GOD WE NEED.”
 XXI. 
SONNET XXI. “AND YET WE STRETCH OUR ARMS OUT TO THE HUMAN.”
  
THE DEEP LOVE.
  
SONNET. CHRIST'S ETERNAL POETHOOD.
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AUTUMN VOICES:
 I. 
I. THE LATER LOVE.
 II. 
II. THE ETERNAL BOYHOOD.
 IX. 
IX. THE SOUL-GAME.
 XII. 
XII. THE SWEETEST LOVE.
 XXII. 
XXII. AT LAST.
  
SONNET. CHRIST'S LOVE.
  
A VISION OF THE DEAD.
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LOVE-LYRICS.
 I. 
I. AFTER LONG MONTHS.
 II. 
II. “THY FACE.”
 III. 
III. “BEYOND.”
 IV. 
IV. “NEVER TIRED?”
 V. 
V. IN THE LATER DAYS.

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330

SONNET. CHRIST'S ETERNAL POETHOOD.

The Church that made the poet into God
Stole his eternal Poethood from him,
And lo! his eyes of genius waxèd dim
And flowerless grew the plains his God's foot trod.
The batlike blind Church limped along the road
He took, and changed to its own image grim
The Eastern poet; swathed his every limb
With stifling robes, and bound the eyes that glowed.
But now the eyes are gleaming forth again:
The robes are falling, and his limbs are free:
He standeth forth, a soul without a stain,
And through his eyes love's light unchangeably
Smiles on the men who for his sake are slain
To-day by Churches asking “Where is he?”
Jan. 13, 1884.
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