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

The Poetical Works of George MacDonald (Parables)

XV.

But glory went that glory more might come.

Behold a countless multitude--no less! A host of faces, me besieging, dumb

In the lone castle of my mournfulness!

Had then my mother given the word I sent, Gathering my dear ones from the shining press?

And had these others their love-aidance lent

For full assurance of the pardon prayed? Would they concentre love, with sweet intent,

On my self-love, to blast the evil shade?

Ah, perfect vision! pledge of endless hope! Oh army of the holy spirit, arrayed

In comfort's panoply! For words I grope--

For clouds to catch your radiant dawn, my own, And tell your coming! From the highest cope

Of blue, down to my roof-breach came a cone

Of faces and their eyes on love's will borne, Bright heads down-bending like the forward blown,

Heavy with ripeness, golden ears of corn,

By gentle wind on crowded harvest-field, All gazing toward my prison-hut forlorn

As if with power of eyes they would have healed

My troubled heart, making it like their own In which the bitter fountain had been sealed,

And the life-giving water flowed alone!

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