Just as the hay-fields on the cliff-top draw
Seafarers—yea, two miles away from land!
Bringing sweet thoughts of many a leafy strand,
Making more hateful the fierce wind and raw
That smites those barren furrows which they plough—
Just as the scent of hay-fields makes the hand
Tremble upon the oar, the heart crave now
For fields where flowers and grass-blades do expand:—
So, Gertrude, far away thou drawest me
From life and labour, and their scentless sea—
Sweeter than hay-fields is thy spirit-breath,
Which, loved one, lures me through the gulfs of death,
More wonderful the magic of thine eyes,
Convulsed at sight of which life swoons and dies.
George Barlow
(George Barlow)
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Based on Topics: Death & Dying Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Labor PoemsBased on Keywords: scentless, smites, gertrude, convulsed, swoons, grass-blades, drawest, barlow, hay-fields, cliff-top
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