The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
148
XLIX. WEARY
Yes: I am weary indeed. But thou,—thou art not weary.
What hath thy soul to do with grey thoughts dim and dreary?
Thou art the morning's rose!
Long after I am dead, the flowers will gather round thee:
But still my glory is that mine the first hand crowned thee
With love no heart else knows.
What hath thy soul to do with grey thoughts dim and dreary?
Thou art the morning's rose!
Long after I am dead, the flowers will gather round thee:
But still my glory is that mine the first hand crowned thee
With love no heart else knows.
This is my glory and gift; that I of all men brought thee
The deepest truest love, and with sweet singing sought thee
And gifts through long pain won.
This is my crown; to know that though love's sword was keener
Than grief's, I met its point with heart and glance serener
Than flowers that meet the sun.
The deepest truest love, and with sweet singing sought thee
And gifts through long pain won.
This is my crown; to know that though love's sword was keener
Than grief's, I met its point with heart and glance serener
Than flowers that meet the sun.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |