The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | V. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. | VII. THY SOUL
|
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVII. |
| 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. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
218
VII. THY SOUL
Not love that shifts and veers, not love that wanes and passes,
Not love wherewith the light wind woos the fickle grasses
In summer on the lea;
Not love such as the love the wayward springtide brings us
Nor likened to the love June's laughing sweet hand flings us,—
Not such love bring I thee!
Not love wherewith the light wind woos the fickle grasses
In summer on the lea;
Not love such as the love the wayward springtide brings us
Nor likened to the love June's laughing sweet hand flings us,—
Not such love bring I thee!
I know each passing gleam, each fleeting shadow and light
Within thine eyes, or on thy face or forehead white,
And long—God knows I long!—
To hold thee for mine own: and yet I love thee more
Than any poet loved who ever loved before
Because I love thy pure soul more than song.
Within thine eyes, or on thy face or forehead white,
And long—God knows I long!—
To hold thee for mine own: and yet I love thee more
Than any poet loved who ever loved before
Because I love thy pure soul more than song.
219
I love thee more than songs of face and form and feature.—
Daily the soft veil shifts upon the face of Nature:
The violet flees the rose:
The green leaf flees the red; the love of Nature changes:
The wild sea's restless heart from cloud to sea-bird ranges:
Each warm wind's lips can melt the mountain's snows.
Daily the soft veil shifts upon the face of Nature:
The violet flees the rose:
The green leaf flees the red; the love of Nature changes:
The wild sea's restless heart from cloud to sea-bird ranges:
Each warm wind's lips can melt the mountain's snows.
More than strong words can say, though they be strong and eager
(Beside the truth of love the sweetest words sound meagre!)
I love thine eyes to see.
But I with life and death and pain, firm-lipped and fearless,
Have wrestled, that thy soul, so passionate and peerless,
Might through eternity belong to me.
(Beside the truth of love the sweetest words sound meagre!)
I love thine eyes to see.
But I with life and death and pain, firm-lipped and fearless,
Have wrestled, that thy soul, so passionate and peerless,
Might through eternity belong to me.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |