The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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SPIRITUAL PASSION: TWO SONNETS
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
125
SPIRITUAL PASSION: TWO SONNETS
I.
[I feel towards God just as a woman might]
I feel towards God just as a woman might
Who hears her lord praised by the adoring crowd:—
Who hears them hymn his strength with pæan loud—
His glory in thought or speech, his force in fight.
She knows him better. Through the silent night
She has watched his face beneath keen sorrow bowed;
Him she has cherished with embraces white;
She has kissed the lips that seem to men so proud
Who hears her lord praised by the adoring crowd:—
Who hears them hymn his strength with pæan loud—
His glory in thought or speech, his force in fight.
She knows him better. Through the silent night
She has watched his face beneath keen sorrow bowed;
Him she has cherished with embraces white;
She has kissed the lips that seem to men so proud
She cannot fear: she loves. She can but smile
That men should dread like some disastrous wand
His sceptre wielded o'er the people, while
She knows the sea-deep love that lies beyond.
She trusts her lord without one thought of guile,
Knowing her union holier and more fond.
That men should dread like some disastrous wand
His sceptre wielded o'er the people, while
She knows the sea-deep love that lies beyond.
She trusts her lord without one thought of guile,
Knowing her union holier and more fond.
126
II.
[Or, as a man might love some haughty queen]
Or, as a man might love some haughty queen
I love God. How the lover might rejoice
At accents he finds silvery of that voice
Which makes the base slaves tremble, and the mean!
The lover faces her with look serene,
Who knows the grey eyes and the clinging breast
By him in sweet proximity possest
Are all too sweet for wrath to intervene.
I love God. How the lover might rejoice
At accents he finds silvery of that voice
Which makes the base slaves tremble, and the mean!
The lover faces her with look serene,
Who knows the grey eyes and the clinging breast
By him in sweet proximity possest
Are all too sweet for wrath to intervene.
O sweet sweet gleaming body of a God!
No wrath there is in thee: the lover trod
Unchidden that queen's palace-chamber through—
And so I likewise fearlessly embrace
Thy form, and look thy glory in the face;
Thine inmost woman-heart is gentle too.
No wrath there is in thee: the lover trod
Unchidden that queen's palace-chamber through—
And so I likewise fearlessly embrace
Thy form, and look thy glory in the face;
Thine inmost woman-heart is gentle too.
January, 1877.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |