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. | XXXVII. THE CROWNING GRACE
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| 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 |  |
132
XXXVII. THE CROWNING GRACE
No wonder I was dazed: no wonder I was gladdened.
Thy beauty is of the type that now and then hath maddened
A whole great nation's heart:
Priceless to all who meet the sacred God-sent jewel;
Priceless if it be kind, death's dart if it be cruel,
But ever deathless in the land of Art.
Thy beauty is of the type that now and then hath maddened
A whole great nation's heart:
Priceless to all who meet the sacred God-sent jewel;
Priceless if it be kind, death's dart if it be cruel,
But ever deathless in the land of Art.
This hath been given to thee. The beauty that can harm us,—
Redeem or sink to hell,—lift us, delight us, charm us
Into a worship wild.
But oh be more than this! Add to thy beauty's splendour
The grace that crowneth all, when through a woman's tender
Deep eyes shine forth the pure eyes of a child.
Redeem or sink to hell,—lift us, delight us, charm us
Into a worship wild.
But oh be more than this! Add to thy beauty's splendour
The grace that crowneth all, when through a woman's tender
Deep eyes shine forth the pure eyes of a child.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |