Books by George MacDonald :The Poetical Works of George MacDonald (Parables) (original) (raw)

The Poetical Works of George MacDonald (Parables)

VIII.

It was enough; Hope waked from dreary swound,

And Hope had ever been enough for me, To kennel driving grim Tomorrow's hound;

From chains of school and mode she set me free,

And urged my life to living.--On we went Across the stars that underlay the sea,

And came to a blown shore of sand and bent.

Beyond the sand a marshy moor we crossed Silent--I, for I pondered what he meant,

And he, that sacred speech might not be lost--

And came at length upon an evil place: Trees lay about like a half-buried host,

Each in its desolate pool; some fearful race

Of creatures was not far, for howls and cries And gurgling hisses rose. With even pace

Walking, "Fear not," he said, "for this way lies

Our journey." On we went; and soon the ground Slow from the waste began a gentle rise;

And tender grass in patches, then all round,

Came clouding up, with its fresh homely tinge Of softest green cold-flushing every mound;

At length, of lowly shrubs a scattered fringe;

And last, a gloomy forest, almost blind, For on its roof no sun-ray did impinge,

So that its very leaves did share the mind

Of a brown shadowless day. Not, all the year, Once part its branches to let through a wind,

But all day long the unmoving trees appear

To ponder on the past, as men may do That for the future wait without a fear,

And in the past the coming present view.

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