The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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SONNET XXII
“THOU ART THE SAME”
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
108
SONNET XXII
“THOU ART THE SAME”
I.
Death! Still thou art the same. We know thee well,
And yet we know thee not.—The son to thee
Gives up his grey-haired mother, and the sea
Yields up its lords; the green stalk yields its bell.
The first-born rose at night's first footstep fell,
And last night's deaths solved not the mystery:—
We know not what behind the veil may be—
Limitless heaven, or unimagined hell!
And yet we know thee not.—The son to thee
Gives up his grey-haired mother, and the sea
Yields up its lords; the green stalk yields its bell.
The first-born rose at night's first footstep fell,
And last night's deaths solved not the mystery:—
We know not what behind the veil may be—
Limitless heaven, or unimagined hell!
Thou art not changed. While love and passion veer
Like storm-beat ships, and all the ways of man
Waver, thou dost one changeless straight course steer:
Tight on the tiller are thy fingers wan:
Thy lips have never lost that mocking sneer
With which their cruel curséd work began.
Like storm-beat ships, and all the ways of man
Waver, thou dost one changeless straight course steer:
Tight on the tiller are thy fingers wan:
Thy lips have never lost that mocking sneer
With which their cruel curséd work began.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |