The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
276
XXXVIII. “LIFE AND DEATH”
This was the awful thing,—that once for all I knew it—
That God was in the flame, and gleaming ever through it
His panoply supreme.
Seven times hot was the flame, but God was in the fire:
So through the furnace rang, e'en there, my desperate lyre
And agony became like love's own dream.
That God was in the flame, and gleaming ever through it
His panoply supreme.
Seven times hot was the flame, but God was in the fire:
So through the furnace rang, e'en there, my desperate lyre
And agony became like love's own dream.
Yet awful was the place—I, passing through pain's portal,
Grew for a season mixed with hearts and spirits immortal:
I fought,—and held my breath,
Knowing that I at length was fighting not for pastime
But for the love of thee, and fighting for the last time,
And that, this time, the stakes were life and death.
Grew for a season mixed with hearts and spirits immortal:
I fought,—and held my breath,
Knowing that I at length was fighting not for pastime
But for the love of thee, and fighting for the last time,
And that, this time, the stakes were life and death.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |