The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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SONNET XXVII
LOST RICHES
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
113
SONNET XXVII
LOST RICHES
O riches of all the ages we have missed!
Dark eyes, dark tresses, in old Eastern lands,—
Wonderful thrilling of electric hands,—
Lips fairer than all flowers, alas! unkissed.
Blue tender veins on Cleopatra's wrist,—
Eyes gazing over thirsty Indian sands,—
Eyes watching wild waves break on Northern strands
Pine-shadowed;—oh, the long heart-piercing list!
Dark eyes, dark tresses, in old Eastern lands,—
Wonderful thrilling of electric hands,—
Lips fairer than all flowers, alas! unkissed.
Blue tender veins on Cleopatra's wrist,—
Eyes gazing over thirsty Indian sands,—
Eyes watching wild waves break on Northern strands
Pine-shadowed;—oh, the long heart-piercing list!
And whom of all that long list have we seen?
Poets, who have the eternal heart of Time
Mixed with your own in magnitude sublime,
Ye have kissed the lips it may be of one queen
Of love and song, and crowned her in your rhyme,—
One!—yet red lips are numberless, I ween!
Poets, who have the eternal heart of Time
Mixed with your own in magnitude sublime,
Ye have kissed the lips it may be of one queen
Of love and song, and crowned her in your rhyme,—
One!—yet red lips are numberless, I ween!
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |