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George MacDonald (Джордж Макдональд) A Dream Song I dreamed of a song-I heard it sung; In the ear of my soul its strange notes rung. What were its words I could not tell, Only the voice I heard right well, For its tones unearthly my spirit bound In a calm delirium of mystic sound- Held me floating, alone and high, Placeless and silent, drinking my fill Of dews that from cloudless skies distil On desert places that thirst and sigh. 'Twas a woman's voice, deep calling to deep, Rousing old echoes that all day sleep In cavern and solitude, each apart, Here and there in the waiting heart;- A voice with a wild melodious cry Reaching and longing afar and high. Sorrowful triumph, and hopeful strife, Gainful death, and new-born life, Thrilled in each note of the prophet-song. In my heart it said: O Lord, how long Shall we groan and travail and faint and pray, Ere thy lovely kingdom bring the day! George MacDonald's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1461 |
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