The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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VII. |
VIII. |
LIFE AND DEATH
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VII. |
VIII. |
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XI. |
The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ||
162
LIFE AND DEATH
I
The roses all are dead: the wintry winds are blowingAlong the shivering streets and o'er the sighing field.
Barren is every bed where once bright flowers were glowing:
No more the hedgerows green their fragrant clusters yield.
II
And so it is with life. The days are growing greyer:The old loves depart and wither roselike, one by one;
Nought can escape the spear of Time the blossom-slayer;
Something of glory fades at every set of sun.
163
III
The hills shine still the same; the purple-robed dim mountainsAre joyous as of old: but man from day to day
Ages. The silver sea with undiminished fountains
Sparkles: but some hope dies with every shower of spray.
IV
We are helpless in the hand of Force that urges onward:We cannot stay our feet; no faster can we go.
Whither are we to turn? Moonward or seaward? sunward?
Or to the hills' disdain? or to the fountains' flow?
V
O terrible blind God who urgest on our legions,Hast thou no eyes nor heart,—hast thou no heed nor care?
Is there no conscious soul within the viewless regions?
Only the silent void of unresponsive air?
164
VI
“And we shall mix with rose”—so say they—“and with lily;And with the tigers' joys and with the lions' glee:
Laugh in the breeze that floats above the upland hilly:
Smile in the stars that shine above the summer sea!”
VII
Folly! one single hour of warm sweet human living,With woman's lips to kiss and power her heart to sway,
Surpasses all the joys wide Nature hath for giving:
Outburgeons the full rose and mocks the starry ray.
VIII
Others again: “The dream of conscious living over,Our influence shall abide and flow throughout the race:
We shall relive in souls of many a future lover;
Burn through the flamelit love in many a future face.
165
IX
“All that we gave shall last. More glorious for cessationOf the small human life, our words like wingéd things
Shall haunt the hills and meads of many a future nation,—
Become to future souls their revelation-springs.”
X
Madness! a single day of winds' and waters' riot,While through the wild salt airs the sea-birds' pinions beat,
Is lordlier than long years of rotten dead mute quiet
Within the churchyard green, or underneath the street.
XI
And higher than all words ranks pure love o'er the gloryOf posthumous renown, how high soever this:
And nobler than new dawns o'er mountains grim and hoary
Is the first sense of love within the throbbing kiss.
October, 1881.
The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ||