The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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IV.

Once more I kneel. The earth is dark,

And darker yet the air;

If light there be, 'tis but a spark

Amid a world's despair--

One

hopeless hope there yet may be A God somewhere to hear;

The

God to whom I bend my knee-- A God with open ear.

I know that men laugh still to scorn

The grief that is my lot;

Such wounds, they say, are hardly borne,

But easily forgot.

What matter that my sorrows rest

On ills which men despise!

More hopeless heaves my aching breast

Than when a prophet sighs.

AEons of griefs have come and gone--

My grief is yet my mark.

The

sun sets every night, yet none Sees therefore in the dark.

There's love enough upon the earth,

And beauty too, they say:

There may be plenty, may be dearth,

I care not any way.

The

world hath melted from my sight; No grace in life is left;

I cry to thee with all my might,

Because I am bereft.

In vain I cry. The earth is dark,

And darker yet the air;

Of light there trembles now no spark

In my lost soul's despair.

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