The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
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| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
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| XL. |
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| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
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| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXII. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| LXXXII. |
| LXXXIII. |
| LXXXIV. |
| III. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
219
SONNET VII
“IT SEEMS SO STRANGE”
It seems so strange to me to think that thou
Dost love our England and our English song!
And yet before thee strange storms swept along
And strange sweet Southern moonlight touched thy brow.
I think of thee,—and wonder and wonder how
Through thy young spirit eager, pure, and strong
The thought of England darted, ere the throng
Of English pilot-waves around the prow
Of thy home-coming vessel danced and gleamed.
What were thy thoughts in that far wondrous land?
What flowers grew sweeter for thy loving hand?
What stars grew softer as thy star-eyes dreamed
Among them? What words whispered the white band
Of Southern clouds that through the clear blue streamed?
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |