The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
 | XI. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
|
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
136
XL. MY POST
Oh, have I not this post—to sing for ever for thee?
To shed the glory of song and love's vast sunshine o'er thee,
Watchful lest harm befall.
Oh, have I not this right, supremely grand and fateful,
For which of all God's gifts I am to God most grateful,—
The right to suffer for thee more than all?
To shed the glory of song and love's vast sunshine o'er thee,
Watchful lest harm befall.
Oh, have I not this right, supremely grand and fateful,
For which of all God's gifts I am to God most grateful,—
The right to suffer for thee more than all?
This is my part, my post. No man can take it from me.
No strength can now disarm, no sword-edge can displume me:
In front of thee I stand.
To die for thee were sweet. To live for thee is harder.
Yet, patient, this I do,—an ever watchful warder
At the sweet golden gates of fairy-land.
No strength can now disarm, no sword-edge can displume me:
In front of thee I stand.
To die for thee were sweet. To live for thee is harder.
Yet, patient, this I do,—an ever watchful warder
At the sweet golden gates of fairy-land.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |