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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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The simplest joys that daily pass

Grow ecstasies in sleep;

wind on heights of waving grass In a dream has made me weep.

No wonder then my heart one night

Was joy-full to the brim:

was with one whose love and might Had drawn me close to him!

But from a church into the street

Came pouring, crowding on,

troubled throng with hurrying feet, And Lo, my friend was gone!

Alone upon a miry road

I walked a wretched plain;

Onward without a goal I strode

Through mist and drizzling rain.

Low mounds of ruin, ugly pits,

And brick-fields scarred the globe;

Those wastes where desolation sits

Without her ancient robe.

The dreariness, the nothingness

Grew worse almost than fear;

If ever hope was needful bliss,

Hope sure was needful here!

Did potent wish work joyous change

Like wizard's glamour-spell?

Wishes not always fruitless range,

And sometimes it is well!

know not. Sudden sank the way, Burst in the ocean-waves;

Behold a bright, blue-billowed bay,

Red rocks and sounding caves!

Dreaming, I wept. Awake, I ask--

Shall earthly dreams, forsooth,

Set the old Heavens too hard a task

To match them with the truth?

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