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George MacDonald (Джордж Макдональд)


Fate


Oft, as I rest in quiet peace, am I
Thrust out at sudden doors, and madly driven
Through desert solitudes, and thunder-riven
Black passages which have not any sky:
The scourge is on me now, with all the cry
Of ancient life that hath with murder striven.
How many an anguish hath gone up to heaven,
How many a hand in prayer been lifted high
When the black fate came onward with the rush
Of whirlwind, avalanche, or fiery spume!
Even at my feet is cleft a shivering tomb
Beneath the waves; or else, with solemn hush
The graveyard opens, and I feel a crush
As if we were all huddled in one doom! 



George MacDonald's other poems:
  1. The Lost House
  2. Pilate's Wife
  3. Blind Bartimeus
  4. Song of the Waiting Dead
  5. Appeal


Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Ralph Emerson (Ральф Эмерсон) Fate ("DEEP in the man sits fast his fate")
  • Francis Bret Harte (Фрэнсис Брет Гарт) Fate ("The sky is clouded, the rocks are bare")

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