The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
 |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
|
|
|
|
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
143
XLVI. “THEE I CANNOT ESCAPE”
Thee I cannot escape.—The whole great world remindeth
My soul of thee. Whate'er of joy my spirit findeth
It longs with thee to share:
The glory of the moors alight with purple heather;
The splendour of the calm untroubled summer weather;
The low soft laughter of the moonlit air.
My soul of thee. Whate'er of joy my spirit findeth
It longs with thee to share:
The glory of the moors alight with purple heather;
The splendour of the calm untroubled summer weather;
The low soft laughter of the moonlit air.
When I behold the tides for ever surging, breaking,
Against the granite walls that guard with base unshaking
The wind-swept Cornish shore,
I long for thee to see with me the vast Atlantic
As the great waves with leap delirious and gigantic
Charge upward,—and foam backward evermore.
Against the granite walls that guard with base unshaking
The wind-swept Cornish shore,
I long for thee to see with me the vast Atlantic
As the great waves with leap delirious and gigantic
Charge upward,—and foam backward evermore.
144
When I see white clear walls, and Southern hills and towers,
I long for thee to thread the Southern vine-tressed bowers,
Sweetheart, along with me:
And so it comes to pass that I escape thee never;
That every star of night bids me love on for ever,
And every fern and flower suggest but thee.
I long for thee to thread the Southern vine-tressed bowers,
Sweetheart, along with me:
And so it comes to pass that I escape thee never;
That every star of night bids me love on for ever,
And every fern and flower suggest but thee.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |