The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
![]() | III. |
![]() | IV. |
![]() | V. |
![]() | VI. |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
![]() | III. |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() | VII. |
![]() | VIII. |
![]() | IX. |
![]() | X. |
![]() | XI. |
![]() | The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ![]() |
272
THORNS AND THE ROSE
They celebrate the birth of grief's pale King to-morrow
And crown him with their crown of immemorial sorrow,
Their brown keen points of thorn.
They sing, “To us to-day within the city of David
A holy soul is given whereby the world is savéd:
To us a child is born!”
And crown him with their crown of immemorial sorrow,
Their brown keen points of thorn.
They sing, “To us to-day within the city of David
A holy soul is given whereby the world is savéd:
To us a child is born!”
I look back, and I think of summer upon the ocean
And long cream-crested lines of gentle waves in motion
And limbs of white repose
Rising therefrom: of Love the very world's creator
Born at the dawn of things, crowned even by souls who hate her,—
Crowned not with thorn-points,—with the illimitable rose.
And long cream-crested lines of gentle waves in motion
And limbs of white repose
Rising therefrom: of Love the very world's creator
Born at the dawn of things, crowned even by souls who hate her,—
Crowned not with thorn-points,—with the illimitable rose.
Christmas Eve, 1882
![]() | The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ![]() |