The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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XIV.

I kneel. But all my soul is dumb

With hopeless misery:

Is he a friend who will not come,

Whose face I must not see?

I do not think of broken laws,

Of judge's damning word;

My heart is all one ache, because

I call and am not heard.

A cry where there is none to hear,

Doubles the lonely pain;

Returns in silence on the ear,

In torture on the brain.

No look of love a smile can bring,

No kiss wile back the breath

To cold lips: I no answer wring

From this great face of death.

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