The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| EARLY POEMS |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
1
EARLY POEMS
3
A DREAM OF A KISS
Last night I dreamed a dream of a kiss
And awoke the better for fancied bliss.
I dreamed of a maiden dear to me
Whom alas! but seldom in fact I see;
I had said “good-bye” to the rest I know,
And, waiting alone in a room below,
I found my darling, my love, my queen,
She and I only, no soul between.
And we clasped hands as lovers should do,
And thrills of lovers the palms passed through,
And she leaned forward—I hardly dare
To talk to the paper of gifts so rare;
She leaned forward—again I repeat
She leaned forward—the words are sweet—
And closed my lips with a maiden kiss,
Maiden, the first one, first-fruit of bliss.
O sweet firstling, first in a dream,
Passing sweet to my lips you seem;
I pray that the phantom-kiss may endure,
And seal my lips and burn them pure!
And then we parted; a word I said,
And “Love” was the word,—then the bright dream fled.
Yet as I went I breathed a prayer;
“God be with you,” my maiden fair:
And that pure prayer I desire to repeat;
“The God of the daylight be with you, sweet!”
And awoke the better for fancied bliss.
I dreamed of a maiden dear to me
Whom alas! but seldom in fact I see;
I had said “good-bye” to the rest I know,
And, waiting alone in a room below,
I found my darling, my love, my queen,
She and I only, no soul between.
And we clasped hands as lovers should do,
And thrills of lovers the palms passed through,
And she leaned forward—I hardly dare
To talk to the paper of gifts so rare;
She leaned forward—again I repeat
She leaned forward—the words are sweet—
And closed my lips with a maiden kiss,
Maiden, the first one, first-fruit of bliss.
O sweet firstling, first in a dream,
Passing sweet to my lips you seem;
I pray that the phantom-kiss may endure,
And seal my lips and burn them pure!
4
And “Love” was the word,—then the bright dream fled.
Yet as I went I breathed a prayer;
“God be with you,” my maiden fair:
And that pure prayer I desire to repeat;
“The God of the daylight be with you, sweet!”
O Sender of Dreams, that the dream may be
In some way or other true to me!
In some way or other true to me!
1870.
5
“SIGHS THE WIND”
Sighs the wind to-night like a voice from far-away regionsBringing in memories of foam flung wide on the waves of the past,
And echoes of long-lulled laughter, and shafts and lances in legions
From the homes of the dead hurled forth high horsed upon wings of the blast!
1870.
6
“EYES OF BEAUTY”
Eyes of beauty, eyes of fire,
Rousing in me mad desire,
Rousing love that cannot tire;
Rousing in me mad desire,
Rousing love that cannot tire;
Eyes of beauty, eyes of green,
Sea-sweet colour, seldom seen,
Rippling eyelashes between;
Sea-sweet colour, seldom seen,
Rippling eyelashes between;
Eyes of beauty, eyes of brown,
Lovely, lowly, looking down,
Conquering wholly whom they crown;
Lovely, lowly, looking down,
Conquering wholly whom they crown;
Eyes of beauty, eyes of grey,
Soft as night-time, bright as day,
Born to govern, born to sway;
Soft as night-time, bright as day,
Born to govern, born to sway;
7
Eyes of green and brown and grey,
Fairer than noon's sunniest ray,
I love you more than words can say!
Fairer than noon's sunniest ray,
I love you more than words can say!
1870.
8
THE ENCHANTRESS OF THE SHORE
I.
This
is the song she sang to me,
Upon the grass, beneath the tree,
That summer cloudless diamond day
We were together: when I lay
Content her peerless face to see.
Upon the grass, beneath the tree,
That summer cloudless diamond day
We were together: when I lay
Content her peerless face to see.
“Sleep, love, and let the ages run their weary
Wild way as they have hastened heretofore,
But do not thou be busy any more
With social schemes, and systems dusty, dreary,—
But stay with me and I will be thine eerie
Witch-Lady, thine Enchantress of the Shore.
Wild way as they have hastened heretofore,
But do not thou be busy any more
9
But stay with me and I will be thine eerie
Witch-Lady, thine Enchantress of the Shore.
“Yea, I will kiss thee—once—no more—contented
With this thou hast to be, if thou wilt go
To be a bubble on the ebb and flow
Of that strong tide of action man invented,
Because his soul was loveless and consented
Not pure passivity of life to know.
With this thou hast to be, if thou wilt go
To be a bubble on the ebb and flow
Of that strong tide of action man invented,
Because his soul was loveless and consented
Not pure passivity of life to know.
“But if thou wilt abide with me, soft laughter
From morning until even, and delight
That thou hast little dreamed about, my knight,
Is ours, and, careless what may come hereafter,
But as the wind a creaking loosened rafter
Shakes gently, shall the World our quiet smite.”
From morning until even, and delight
That thou hast little dreamed about, my knight,
Is ours, and, careless what may come hereafter,
But as the wind a creaking loosened rafter
Shakes gently, shall the World our quiet smite.”
Such was the song she sang to me
Beneath the listening silent tree.
The leaves left fluttering as she sang:
My heartstrings so responsive rang
Dead I had been content to be.
Beneath the listening silent tree.
The leaves left fluttering as she sang:
My heartstrings so responsive rang
Dead I had been content to be.
10
II.
This is the song she sang to me,
Upon the sand, beside the sea,
That dreamy burnished autumn noon
When, like a sleeper in a swoon,
I, languid, rested next her knee.
Upon the sand, beside the sea,
That dreamy burnished autumn noon
When, like a sleeper in a swoon,
I, languid, rested next her knee.
“Peace, love, and listen to a soothing ditty
That I will sing to thee, and close thine eyes
And ponder all things slumbrous—sunset skies,
Long shores at nightfall, or some Arab city
Wherein myself shall find thee and take pity
And be thy good magician. Come, be wise!
That I will sing to thee, and close thine eyes
And ponder all things slumbrous—sunset skies,
Long shores at nightfall, or some Arab city
Wherein myself shall find thee and take pity
And be thy good magician. Come, be wise!
“For what is fame, and crowns of glory, golden
Or green or grey or coloured otherways,
The warrior's laurel or the poet's bays?
Why shouldst thou be to any man beholden,
Once having known sweet lips that wax not olden,
Feet having trodden once Love's mystic maze?
Or green or grey or coloured otherways,
The warrior's laurel or the poet's bays?
Why shouldst thou be to any man beholden,
Once having known sweet lips that wax not olden,
Feet having trodden once Love's mystic maze?
11
“I sing to thee, and hath my voice no power
To send the hot blood round thy forehead fair,
And art thou not enamoured of my hair?
See, I will give thee, sweet one, even this flower,
If thou wilt tarry with me in my bower,
This rose that I have been content to wear.”
To send the hot blood round thy forehead fair,
And art thou not enamoured of my hair?
See, I will give thee, sweet one, even this flower,
If thou wilt tarry with me in my bower,
This rose that I have been content to wear.”
Such was the song she sang to me
Beside the rippling of the sea.
Their voices mingled passing sweet
And bound a chain about my feet,
And glad was I in prison to be.
Beside the rippling of the sea.
Their voices mingled passing sweet
And bound a chain about my feet,
And glad was I in prison to be.
III.
This is the song she sang to me,
Upon the cliff, above the sea,
That blue delightful summer morn.
Along its eddies I was borne
Wrapped in a silent ecstasy.
Upon the cliff, above the sea,
That blue delightful summer morn.
Along its eddies I was borne
Wrapped in a silent ecstasy.
12
“Rest thou, and I will shield thee and caress thee.
Thou shalt not need to wander any more
Along the barren sad sun-stricken shore,
Nor unto weary labour to address thee,
For I am thine, and here am I to bless thee:
Thou hast love, what hast thou to do with war?
Thou shalt not need to wander any more
Along the barren sad sun-stricken shore,
Nor unto weary labour to address thee,
For I am thine, and here am I to bless thee:
Thou hast love, what hast thou to do with war?
“Thou hast not heard me sing before, my simple
Strong hero with the iron arms and heart:
If thou wilt stay with me and not depart,
I will let loose my hair, cast off my wimple,
And singing, honey-sweet, shall surely dimple
The airs, and I will use my mystic art
Strong hero with the iron arms and heart:
If thou wilt stay with me and not depart,
I will let loose my hair, cast off my wimple,
And singing, honey-sweet, shall surely dimple
The airs, and I will use my mystic art
“To soothe thee, and to lull thee, and to prove thee
Whether thou art a lover true indeed.
Thou hast been strong to struggle and to bleed
Wearing my colours,—listen, doth this move thee?
Or must my lips make plainer that I love thee?
I thought my eyes had left them little need.”
Whether thou art a lover true indeed.
Thou hast been strong to struggle and to bleed
Wearing my colours,—listen, doth this move thee?
Or must my lips make plainer that I love thee?
I thought my eyes had left them little need.”
13
Such was the song she sang to me
In that green nook above the sea.
The sun was softened, for her face
Stole all his fire and added grace,
And as the sun she seemed to be.
In that green nook above the sea.
The sun was softened, for her face
Stole all his fire and added grace,
And as the sun she seemed to be.
1870.
14
IN THE PAST
My love is waiting in the past,
And I, I cannot go to her:
My eyes are closed, my lips are fast;
Between us comes a shadow vast
And interposes arms of air.
And I, I cannot go to her:
My eyes are closed, my lips are fast;
Between us comes a shadow vast
And interposes arms of air.
Ah, love, if I could get to you,
If I could break the bands of life,
And bring by death your face in view,
And things that used to be renew,
How I would kiss the keen-edged knife!
If I could break the bands of life,
And bring by death your face in view,
And things that used to be renew,
How I would kiss the keen-edged knife!
How I would run to meet King Death,
And fall upon his icy breast,
And hug each single word he saith,—
If only we might mingle breath,
And in his arms together rest!
And fall upon his icy breast,
And hug each single word he saith,—
If only we might mingle breath,
And in his arms together rest!
1870.
15
THE AGONY OF THE AGE
What Power shall set us free? The winds are free;The waters rise and fall for very gladness;
The evening pang, the shadow of sunset sadness
At morning advent fades in infinite glee:
The leaves pass kisses on from tree to tree;
The summer brings a sound of happy lovers,
An everlasting tunefulness that hovers
High on the hills, and shines upon the sea.
The universe is happiness—but we,
Striving in vain to tear away the chains
That circle us, the more acutely see
Our own consuming atmosphere of pains,
Long only the more maddeningly to flee,
The more triumphantly the sunshine reigns
Without us,—the more ecstasy in the sky,
The more would we weave wings for us and fly;
But back we sink exhausted on the plains.
1870.
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