Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TWELVE SONNETS: 9. WEARINESS, by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913)



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TWELVE SONNETS: 9. WEARINESS, by            
First Line: Through seas of pain and surging storms of grief
Last Line: O sweet star-lady, grant me thy starlight!


Through seas of pain and surging storms of grief,
O sweetheart, we pursue our weary way,
Waiting till on life's hill-tops the new day
Shines, gilding every blossom, every leaf.
O comforter of mine, of helpers chief,
More patient at love's mournful long delay
Than I,—less angered at the cloud-wreaths grey,—
Speak words of hope: the sails of dawn unreef!

Lo! I am weary; weary unto death.
Long is the struggle, and the night is long:
Not yet upon the hills the morning's song
Broods, nor the sweetness of the morning's breath.
Still am I battling 'mid the tides of night:
O sweet star-lady, grant me thy starlight!





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