The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
I. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
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. |
LXIX. |
LXX. |
LXXI. |
LXXII. |
LXXIII. |
LXXIV. |
LXXV. |
LXXVI. |
LXXVII. |
LXXVIII. |
LXXIX. |
LXXX. |
LXXXI. |
LXXXII. |
LXXXIII. |
LXXXIV. |
III. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ||
309
IV. THE DANCE
Weary I am this winter night,
Sleep presses on my brain;
But you will dance till morning light
Gleams at the window-pane.
Yes, you will dance, while I shall sleep—
So it must ever be!
This winter night is starry-bright
For you, but dark for me.
Sleep presses on my brain;
But you will dance till morning light
Gleams at the window-pane.
Yes, you will dance, while I shall sleep—
So it must ever be!
This winter night is starry-bright
For you, but dark for me.
Yes, you will dance, while I must sleep,
And many a heart will thrill
As through the dance your Spanish glance
Flashes its magic still.
Yes, you will dance, while I shall rest,
And so it ought to be;
For you the night, ablaze with light!
The lampless dark for me!
And many a heart will thrill
As through the dance your Spanish glance
Flashes its magic still.
Yes, you will dance, while I shall rest,
And so it ought to be;
For you the night, ablaze with light!
The lampless dark for me!
310
And ah! I read the lesson through;
I read and grasp it all.
The day may come when sleep more deep
May on my spirit fall.
I shall be sleeping very sound
And very still, maybe,
While life is yet one merry round
Of dance and song for thee.
I read and grasp it all.
The day may come when sleep more deep
May on my spirit fall.
I shall be sleeping very sound
And very still, maybe,
While life is yet one merry round
Of dance and song for thee.
The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ||