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Title: A Year Song
Author: George MacDonald [
More Titles by MacDonald]
Sighing above,
Rustling below,
Thorough the woods
The winds go.
Beneath, dead crowds;
Above, life bare;
And the besom tempest
Sweeps the air:
_Heart, leave thy woe:
Let the dead things go._
Through the brown
Gold doth push;
Misty green
Veils the bush.
Here a twitter,
There a croak!
They are coming--
The spring-folk!
_Heart, be not numb;
Let the live things come._
Through the beech
The winds go,
With gentle speech,
Long and slow.
The grass is fine,
And soft to lie in:
The sun doth shine
The blue sky in:
_Heart, be alive;
Let the new things thrive._
Round again!
Here art thou,
A rimy fruit
On a bare bough!
Winter comes,
Winter and snow;
And a weary sighing
To fall and go!
_Heart, thy hour shall be;
Thy dead will comfort thee._
[The end]
George MacDonald's poem: Year Song
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