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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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The frost weaves ferns and sultry palms

Across my clouded pane;

Weaves melodies of ancient psalms

All through my passive brain.

Quiet ecstasy fills heart and head:

My father is in the room;

The very curtains of my bed

Are from Love's sheltering loom!

The lovely vision melts away;

I am a child no more;

Work rises from the floor of play;

Duty is at the door.

But if I face with courage stout

The labour and the din,

Thou, Lord, wilt let my mind go out

My heart with thee stay in.

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