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1824–1905

XVII

George MacDonald

The highest marble Sorrow vanishes Before a weeping child.The one doth seem, The other is. And wherefore do we dream, But that we live? So I rejoice in this,

That Thou didst cast Thyself, in all the bliss Of conscious strength, into Life's torrent stream, ( Thy deeds fresh life-springs that with blessings teem ) Acting, not painting rainbows o'er its hiss.

Forgive me, Lord, if in these verses lie Mean thoughts, and stains of my infirmity; Full well I know that if they were as high In holy song as prophet's ecstasy,

‘ Tis more to Thee than this, if I, ah me! Speak gently to a child for love of Thee.

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XVII · George MacDonald · Poetry Cove