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The Marriage Before Death, And Other Poems

By George Barlow
Barlow, George

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THE MARRIAGE BEFORE DEATH,
 I. 
Scene I.—In a large Cell in the Prison.
 II. 
Scene II.—On the way to Execution.
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TUA-TUA: or, ROSE-ROSE:
 I. 
Scene I.—In a Dell in the Forest.
 2. 
Scene 2.—In the forest.
 III. 
Scene III.—Chorus of attendant Dyak Maidens, bringing Tua-Tua bound towards the Altar of the Fetish in the black stony valley. Priests of the god, Soldiers, etc.
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LOVE'S EARLY MUSIC.
 I. 
I.—THE SONG OF THE BLACK-BROWN HAIR.
 II. 
II.—PASSION'S MYSTICISM.
  
A VISION IN HYDE PARK.
  
THE ROSE WILL BLOSSOM NONE THE LESS.
  
TO MAZZINI TRIUMPHANT.
  
DEATH OR YOU.
  
TO THEE, LOVE.
  
MARIA FORSTER AND JEAN PAUL.
  
A MEETING: AFTER FIVE YEARS.
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TO GERTRUDE IN THE SPIRIT WORLD.
  
WHAT ART THOU LIKE?
  
THOU ART THE SUMMER.
  
THE HAY-FIELDS ON THE CLIFF TOP.
  
SWEET PASSIONATE SPIRIT.
  
THY LAUGHTER.
  
WHAT MATTERS IT?
  
A MAIDEN SPIRIT.
  
MAN'S DEVOTION AND WOMAN'S POTION:
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THE WRESTLE FOR A SOUL.
 1. 
Scene 1.—Morning.
 2. 
Scene 2.—At Night.
 3. 
Scene 3.—Early Morning.
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TO HELEN.
  
THE FRAGRANT NIGHT.
  
HAVING OUTLIVED, OUTSUFFERED.
  
OH, SEA!
  
STIR NOT.
  
AFTER THE DAY.
  
CALM.
  
ALONE TOGETHER.
  
STILL THERE.
  
THE GENIUS OF SOLOMON.
  
SONNET.
  
THE KITTEN.
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FOUR SONNETS.
 I. 
I.—THE ROSE OF GOD'S BLOOD.
 II. 
II.—THE CROWN OF FLOWERS.
 III. 
III.—IN ENGLAND'S NAME.
 IV. 
IV.—FACE TO FACE.
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THE RELIGION OF ART:
 I. 
I.—VENUS.
 II. 
II.—THE IMMEASURABLE ROSE.
 III. 
III.—UPON THE BREEZES.
 IV. 
IV.—CONTEMPLATION.
 V. 
V.—THE ARTIST.
 VI. 
VI.—LOVE.
 VII. 
VII.—DEATH.
 VIII. 
VIII.—THE DEATH OF THE FIRST FAIR WOMAN.
 IX. 
IX.—THE EMBRACE.
 X. 
X.—THE RAPTURE BEYOND.
 XI. 
XI.—WITHIN THE NIGHT.
 XII. 
XII.—NO DESPAIR.
 XIII. 
XIII.—THE FIRST ROSE.
 XIV. 
XIV.—THE FIRST RED ROSE.
 XV. 
XV.—FROM LOVE.
 XVI. 
XVI.—NO GREATER JOY.
 XVII. 
XVII.—AN ANGEL.
 XVIII. 
XVIII.—THE TEMPEST.
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THE MELODY OF LIFE.
 I. 
I.—LIFE.
 II. 
II.—HAS IT ALL PASSED?
 III. 
III.—THE LONE DAYS.
 IV. 
IV.—PAST KISSES.
 V. 
V.—THE JOY OF LOOKING BACK.
 VI. 
VI.—IT MAY BE.
  
A SOUL-WREATH.

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221

XVII.—AN ANGEL.

Slowly and white the first sweet angel came
Towards me in heaven, and held within her hands
A garland woven of white violet-bands,
With one rose in the centre like a flame.
It seemed a fit return of love and fame—
Meet recompence for wanderings o'er the sands
Of lonely earth, and toil in desert lands—
Ready I was the blossom-wreath to claim.
But, when I touched it, all the wondrous smell
Of those white violets brought the earth again
Before me, and it was as if there fell
Upon the ground soft showers of spring-like rain—
And the angel was the rose too sweet to tell
I' the centre: just a woman, white thro' pain.
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