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1824–1905

BORN OF WATER.

George MacDonald

Methought I stood among the stars alone, Watching a grey parched orb which onward flew Half blinded by the dusty winds that blew, Empty as Death and barren as a stone,

The pleasant sound of water all unknown! When, as I looked in wonderment, there grew, High in the air above, a drop of dew, Which, gathering slowly through long cycles, shone

Like a great tear; and then at last it fell Clasping the orb, which drank it greedily, With a delicious noise and upward swell Of sweet cool joy that tossed me like a sea;

And then the thick life sprang as from a grave, With trees, flowers, boats upon the bounding wave!

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BORN OF WATER. · George MacDonald · Poetry Cove