The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

Yes: through me then there passed the power of life immortal.
A revelation came
Sent straight from heaven's far golden high sun-guarded portal:
A revelation sweet and winged with flame.

I saw new powers of life within my spirit growing:
New pure undreamed-of things
Flashed on my sight with plumes all bright and eyes all glowing
And new skies' azure gathered in their wings.

Sweet as the skies of some unknown blue-sea-girt island,—
Fresh as the prospect fair
From purple heather-adorned voluptuous scented highland,—
Pure as the first breath of Italian air,—

Pure, sweet, and fresh as all these things, the vision crowned me
Which, maiden, thou didst bring.
Is it a wonder then that strange light gleamed around me
And gave me for awhile new force to sing?

Is it a wonder now that when the vision fadeth
My singing sinks to sleep?
Silence is surely best when solemn darkness shadeth
The golden meadows and the enchanted deep.

Yet have I strange eternal deathless recollection
Of what the vision gave.
Its passionate sense of glad superb love-resurrection
Methinks will tarry with me till my grave.

And why God takes away I know not,—for so little
My spirit asked indeed!
Just leave to love and give! Is that to trust a brittle
And faithless staff,—to lean upon a reed?

Is that to ask too much from Nature's stores unmeasured
Where love and life are framed?
Because I thought that love ought alway to be treasured
Is my deep faith in love to make me ashamed?

I saw new life arise as surely as new meadows
See new glad springs arise:—
As surely as the woods emerge from wintry shadows
To meet the soft primroses' laughing eyes!

As surely as new hearts when we lie calmly sleeping
Will chant love's flower-crowned lays
I, dead and buried long, woke: and my heart was weeping
Glad soft tears,—and love's sunlight lit the ways.

New possibilities of ardent life came thronging
Round me on every side.
In one short sigh wild grievous centuries of longing
Were soothed away. My soul-gaze opened wide.

Through room on room I passed of palace after palace
And found new joys in each.
And ever as I drained some new divine love-chalice
A new diviner cup my hand could reach.

As surely as the loves of far-off years approaching
With untouched fair white hands
Will greet new lovers,—sweet and new-born,—not encroaching
On the old barren shores and sterile lands:

As surely as there wait beneath new suns loves sweeter
Than any seen of yore
And poems tarry in front of lordlier march and metre,
And faces fairer than the old to adore:

As surely as the English gold hair makes the Spanish
Dark hair more sweet to see:
As surely as the scent of thyme will never vanish
For countless kisses of the assailant bee:—

So did I see new dreams of splendid new life winging
Their radiant-hued gold way
Around thee, maiden mine,—and brake forth into singing,
While through the clouds Apollo led the day.

And, if I lose thee now, what of these dreams I wonder?
What of next summer's rose?
Ah! when the very soul by grief is rent in sunder,
What is there left to sing?—God only knows.