The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 2 - George MacDonald

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the shining of our light—

      A glistening splendour in forest green,

        A star on the mountain-height.

      With jar and shudder the gates unclose;

        Out in the sun she leaps!

      A unit of light and power she goes

        Levelling vales and steeps:

      The wind around her eddies and blows,

        Before and behind her sleeps.

      Oh joy, oh joy to ride the world

        And glad, good tidings bear!

      A flag of peace on the winds unfurled

        Is the mane of my shining mare:

      To the sound of her hoofs, lo, the dead stars hurled

        Quivering adown the air!

      Oh, the sun and the wind! Oh, the life and the love!

        Where the serpent swung all day

      The loud dove coos to the silent dove;

        Where the web-winged dragon lay

      In its hole beneath, on the rock above

        Merry-tongued children play.

      With eyes of light the maidens look up

        As they sit in the summer heat

      Twining green blade with golden cup—

        They see, and they rise to their feet;

      I call aloud, for I must not stop,

        "Good tidings, my sisters sweet!"

      For mine is a message of holy mirth

        To city and land of corn;

      Of praise for heaviness, plenty for dearth,

        For darkness a shining morn:

      Clap hands, ye billows; be glad, O earth,

        For a child, a child is born!

      Lo, even the just shall live by faith!

        None argue of mine and thine!

      Old Self shall die an ecstatic death

        And be born a thing divine,

      For God's own being and God's own breath

        Shall be its bread and wine.

      Ambition shall vanish, and Love be king,

        And Pride to his darkness hie;

      Yea, for very love of a living thing

        A man would forget and die,

      If very love were not the spring

        Whence life springs endlessly!

      The myrtle shall grow where grew the thorn;

        Earth shall be young as heaven;

      The heart with remorse or anger torn

        Shall weep like a summer even;

      For to us a child, a child is born,

        Unto us a son is given!

      Lord, with thy message I dare not ride!

        I am a fool, a beast!

      The little ones only from thy side

        Go forth to publish thy feast!

      And I, where but sons and daughters abide,

        Would have walked about, a priest!

      Take Snow-white back to her glimmering stall;

        There let her stand and feed!—

      I am overweening, ambitious, small,

        A creature of pride and greed!

      Let me wash the hoofs, let me be the thrall,

        Jesus, of thy white steed!

      THE GOLDEN KEY

      From off the earth the vapours curled,

        Went up to meet their joy;

      The boy awoke, and all the world

        Was waiting for the boy!

      The sky, the water, the wide earth

        Was full of windy play—

      Shining and fair, alive with mirth,

        All for his holiday!

      The hill said "Climb me;" and the wood

        "Come to my bosom, child;

      Mine is a merry gamboling brood,

        Come, and with them go wild."

      The shadows with the sunlight played,

        The birds were singing loud;

      The hill stood up with pines arrayed—

        He ran to join the crowd.

      But long ere noon, dark grew the skies,

        Pale grew the shrinking sun:

      "How soon," he said, "for clouds to rise

        When day was but begun!"

      The wind grew rough; a wilful power

        It swept o'er tree and town;

      The boy exulted for an hour,

        Then weary sat him down.

      And as he sat the rain began,

        And rained till all was still:

      He looked, and saw a rainbow span

        The vale from hill to hill.

      He dried his tears. "Ah, now," he said,

        "The storm was good, I see!

      Yon pine-dressed hill, upon its head

        I'll find the golden key!"

      He thrid the copse, he climbed the fence,

        At last the top did scale;

      But, lo, the rainbow, vanished thence,

        Was shining in the vale!

      "Still,

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