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Poems and Sonnets

By George Barlow

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PHASES.
  
  
  
  
  
  
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138

PHASES.

I

From phase to phase I faint, from song to song,
Even as the earth, through many changes cast,
Once molten fire, shines out green at last,
Nor tarries at a single epoch long;
My lyre now is plaintive, next is strong
Swept by a more sonorous passion blast,
Alone a moment, next my thoughts have passed
To meet a golden-robed advancing throng;
And so I sit and sing; I catch the gleams
That flit across my mind like butterflies
Across a flower-bed, and I string my dreams
Upon a sonnet-necklace as they rise,
Hoping my gift may meet approving eyes
Of her who mistress of my fancy seems;

139

II

From golden bridge of song to bridge of sighs
I leap, from rosy ecstasy to gloom,
From midday to a twilight darkened room,
From summer to a winter that denies
Me fire of words wherewith to sacrifice
To her who sways the sceptre of my doom,
From meads melodious to a silent tomb,
From sweet blue waters to a sea of ice;
But I continue singing—yea I can
By no means bear me otherwise than this,
O voice from out the darkness, not a man,
I seek to strain imagination's kiss
Into a faint similitude of bliss
And by my yearning fires of passion fan;

140

III

At times I hit the mark—then am I glad
In that another jewel of the crown
My lady carries I have blazoned down,
To her attire another grace to add;
That she may be the gladder I am sad,
Forgotten for the sake of her renown—
Yea, let her brow be smoother though I frown
For ever, she be white though I be bad!
But will she hear my singing? yes—I think
That even as a stag may stoop its head,
Or as a sweet pure swan may downward shed
Her dignity at a muddy pool to drink,
So may my lady step towards the brink,
To taste my song may daintily be led.