The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | IX. |
|
|
|
|
|
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
220
SONNET VIII
MY WINGED MESSENGERS
I'll send my messengers with airy feet
And soft ethereal plumage to explore
Those unknown regions, and from every shore
That thou hast trodden to bring whispers sweet.
That is my longing: I to-day would meet
Thy past, and open dreamland's golden door,—
Feel through the woman's lips her girlhood pour
Delight too pure for song's lips to repeat.
And soft ethereal plumage to explore
Those unknown regions, and from every shore
That thou hast trodden to bring whispers sweet.
That is my longing: I to-day would meet
Thy past, and open dreamland's golden door,—
Feel through the woman's lips her girlhood pour
Delight too pure for song's lips to repeat.
Can love not rival elemental things?
Can love not distance star and flower and breeze?
Can I not still the singing of the seas,
Baffle the breezes with melodious wings?
Can I not capture back from rose and pine
Thy girlish love-thoughts, love—and make each mine?
Can love not distance star and flower and breeze?
Can I not still the singing of the seas,
Baffle the breezes with melodious wings?
Can I not capture back from rose and pine
Thy girlish love-thoughts, love—and make each mine?
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |