The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
13
I. IN AUTUMN
If thou and I indeed must part,
If even the sweetest days must close,
If time that severs rose from rose
Must also sever heart from heart,—
Oh, then let not our parting be
In Spring, that were too hard to bear!
For then the copses ring with glee,
A thousand blossoms scent the air.
If even the sweetest days must close,
If time that severs rose from rose
Must also sever heart from heart,—
Oh, then let not our parting be
In Spring, that were too hard to bear!
For then the copses ring with glee,
A thousand blossoms scent the air.
When Spring's glad myriad voices
Sing love-songs of the heart,
When every bird rejoices,
It were too sad to part!
Sing love-songs of the heart,
When every bird rejoices,
It were too sad to part!
If thou and I must face the night,
The darkness where hopes earthly end,—
If, having called me “sweetest friend,”
Thou yet must vanish from my sight,—
Oh, then let not our parting be
In Summer, that were worse to bear!
Such glory rests upon the sea;
This world is then so wondrous fair.
The darkness where hopes earthly end,—
If, having called me “sweetest friend,”
Thou yet must vanish from my sight,—
14
In Summer, that were worse to bear!
Such glory rests upon the sea;
This world is then so wondrous fair.
When every hour discloses
More fully Summer's heart
To Summer's countless roses,
'Twere sadder still to part!
More fully Summer's heart
To Summer's countless roses,
'Twere sadder still to part!
If thou and I must face the fate
So many souls have faced before,
And, having met, must meet no more,
And, having loved, have loved too late,—
Oh, let our maddening parting be
In Autumn. If we part at last,
Let it be when the winds at sea
Thunder “Despair” in every blast!
So many souls have faced before,
And, having met, must meet no more,
And, having loved, have loved too late,—
Oh, let our maddening parting be
In Autumn. If we part at last,
Let it be when the winds at sea
Thunder “Despair” in every blast!
When wild red leaves are flying,
Each bleeding at the heart,
Then is the time for sighing,
Then is the time to part!
Each bleeding at the heart,
Then is the time for sighing,
Then is the time to part!
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |