The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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IV.

The lark is up, his faith is strong,

He mounts the morning air;

Lone voice of all the creature throng,

He sings the morning prayer.

Slow clouds from north and south appear,

Black-based, with shining slope;

In sullen forms their might they rear,

And climb the vaulted cope.

A

lightning flash, a thunder boom!-- Nor sun nor clouds are there;

A

single, all-pervading gloom Hangs in the heavy air.

A

weeping, wasting afternoon Weighs down the aspiring corn;

Amber and red, the sunset soon

Leads back to golden morn.

SONGS OF THE SUMMER NIGHTS.

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