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1824–1905

BLIND SORROW.

George MacDonald

“My life is drear; walking I labour sore; The heart in me is heavy as a stone; And of my sorrows this the icy core: Life is so wide, and I am all alone!”

Thou did'st walk so, with heaven-born eyes down bent Upon the earth's gold-rosy, radiant clay, That thou had'st seen no star in all God's tent Had not thy tears made pools first on the way.

Ah, little knowest thou the tender care In a love-plenteous cloak around thee thrown! Full many a dim-seen, saving mountain-stair Toiling thou climb'st — but not one step alone!

Lift but thy languid head and see thy guide; Let thy steps go in his, nor choose thine own; Then soon wilt thou, thine eyes with wonder wide, Cry, Now I know I never was alone!

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BLIND SORROW. · George MacDonald · Poetry Cove