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Poem by George MacDonald


To the Clouds


Through the unchanging heaven, as ye have sped,
Speed onward still, a strange wild company,
Fleet children of the waters! Glorious ye,
Whether the sun lift up his shining head,
High throned at noontide and established
Among the shifting pillars, or we see
The sable ghosts of air sleep mournfully
Against the sunlight, passionless and dead!
Take thus a glory, oh thou higher Sun,
From all the cloudy labour of man's hand-
Whether the quickening nations rise and run,
Or in the market-place we idly stand
Casting huge shadows over these thy plains-
Even thence, O God, draw thy rich gifts of rains. 



George MacDonald

Poem Theme: Clouds

George MacDonald's other poems:
  1. What the Lord Saith
  2. De Profundis
  3. Noontide Hymn
  4. I See Thee Not
  5. Song of the Waiting Dead


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