The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
42
XV. RESURRECTION
Oh joy past words indeed, delight superbly fashioned,
That in the groves of heaven will speak with voice impassioned,
When, after thou hadst died
I thought and passed away for ever in mortal seeming,
I found myself one night in golden May a-dreaming
My sweet old golden love-dream by thy side!
That in the groves of heaven will speak with voice impassioned,
When, after thou hadst died
I thought and passed away for ever in mortal seeming,
I found myself one night in golden May a-dreaming
My sweet old golden love-dream by thy side!
It was as sweet as if the May-month had arisen
New-born, new-decked indeed, from some sad darksome prison
And brought all dead rose-bloom
Of perished former Mays within its white hands yearning
Over the tender white and red soft rosebuds burning
Alive and splendid through their prison gloom.
New-born, new-decked indeed, from some sad darksome prison
And brought all dead rose-bloom
Of perished former Mays within its white hands yearning
Over the tender white and red soft rosebuds burning
Alive and splendid through their prison gloom.
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It was most sweet to find that May can still remember
The flowers and wreaths and songs of mist-wreathed pale September
And bring them back again:—
Most sweet to see again heaven's hills and May-green larches
After the flowerless walls of hell and flowerless arches
Of the grim wintry dungeon-deeps of pain.
The flowers and wreaths and songs of mist-wreathed pale September
And bring them back again:—
Most sweet to see again heaven's hills and May-green larches
After the flowerless walls of hell and flowerless arches
Of the grim wintry dungeon-deeps of pain.
And will the fair dream pass? I know not. One thing knowing,
I meet with gladdened lips the lips of May soft-glowing
And tender and pure and red:
This knowing,—that I to-day am strong who once was weary;
Free who once watched the sun through prison-grating dreary;
Alive to-day, who yesterday was dead.
I meet with gladdened lips the lips of May soft-glowing
And tender and pure and red:
This knowing,—that I to-day am strong who once was weary;
Free who once watched the sun through prison-grating dreary;
Alive to-day, who yesterday was dead.
May 2, 1883.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |