The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | V. |
| I. |
| II. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| 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 |  |
75
XXXIX. IS IT ALL IN VAIN?
Is my strong holy passionate love for thee
Just a thing wasted? Are all prayers in vain?
Or do they some high heavenly summit gain
Whence their fruition they shall one day see?
Is it worth nought with holy purity
And desperate throes of a Titanic pain
Ever at Love's high altar to remain
Watching, though all men smile in mockery?—
Just a thing wasted? Are all prayers in vain?
Or do they some high heavenly summit gain
Whence their fruition they shall one day see?
Is it worth nought with holy purity
And desperate throes of a Titanic pain
Ever at Love's high altar to remain
Watching, though all men smile in mockery?—
Does God who cares for flowers, and smooths the wings
Of his storm-crumpled dainty butterflies,
Care nought for Prayer's torn plumage when it tries
To part the thunder-clouds whose purple rings
Hem in and guard his palace in the skies?—
Can subjects gain the ear of the King of kings?
Of his storm-crumpled dainty butterflies,
Care nought for Prayer's torn plumage when it tries
To part the thunder-clouds whose purple rings
Hem in and guard his palace in the skies?—
Can subjects gain the ear of the King of kings?
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |