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  1. To L. P. M. D.
  2. Part I Go thou into thy closet; shut thy door; And pray to Him in secret: He will hear. But think not thou, by one wild bound, to clear The numberless ascensions, more and more, Of starry stairs that must be climbed, before Thou comest to the Father’s likeness near, And bendest down to kiss the feet so dear That, step by step, their mounting flights passed o’er. Be thou content if on thy weary need There falls a sense of showers and of the spring; A hope that makes it possible to fling Sickness aside, and go and do the deed; For highest aspiration will not lead Unto the calm beyond all questioning.
    1. Scene I
    2. Scene II
    3. Scene III
    4. Scene IV
    5. Scene V
    6. Scene VI
    7. Scene VII
    8. Scene VIII
  3. Part II Hark, hark, a voice amid the quiet intense! It is thy Duty waiting thee without. Rise from thy knees in hope, the half of doubt; A hand doth pull thee—it is Providence; Open thy door straightway, and get thee hence; Go forth into the tumult and the shout; Work, love, with workers, lovers, all about: Of noise alone is born the inward sense Of silence; and from action springs alone The inward knowledge of true love and faith. Then, weary, go thou back with failing breath, And in thy chamber make thy prayer and moan: One day upon His bosom, all thine own, Thou shall lie still, embraced in holy death.
    1. Scene I
    2. Scene II
    3. Scene III
    4. Scene IV
    5. Scene V
    6. Scene VI
    7. Scene VII
    8. Scene VIII
    9. Scene IX
    10. Scene X
    11. Scene XI
    12. Scene XII
    13. Scene XIII
    14. Scene XIV
    15. Scene XV
    16. Scene XVI
    17. Scene XVII
    18. Scene XVIII
    19. Scene XIX
  4. Part III And weep not, though the Beautiful decay Within thy heart, as daily in thine eyes; Thy heart must have its autumn, its pale skies, Leading, mayhap, to winter’s dim dismay. Yet doubt not. Beauty doth not pass away; Her form departs not, though her body dies. Secure beneath the earth the snowdrop lies, Waiting the spring’s young resurrection-day, Through the kind nurture of the winter cold. Nor seek thou by vain effort to revive The summer-time, when roses were alive; Do thou thy work—be willing to be old: Thy sorrow is the husk that doth infold A gorgeous June, for which thou need’st not strive.
    1. Scene I
    2. Scene II
    3. Scene III
    4. Scene IV
    5. Scene V
    6. Scene VI
    7. Scene VII
    8. Scene VIII
    9. Scene IX
    10. Scene X
    11. Scene XI
  5. Part IV And should the twilight darken into night, And sorrow grow to anguish, be thou strong; Thou art in God, and nothing can go wrong Which a fresh life-pulse cannot set aright. That thou dost know the darkness, proves the light. Weep if thou wilt, but weep not all too long; Or weep and work, for work will lead to song. But search thy heart, if, hid from all thy sight, There lies no cause for beauty’s slow decay; If for completeness and diviner youth, And not for very love, thou seek’st the truth; If thou hast learned to give thyself away For love’s own self, not for thyself, I say: Were God’s love less, the world were lost, in sooth!
    1. Scene I
    2. Scene II
    3. Scene III
    4. Scene IV
    5. Scene V
    6. Scene VI
    7. Scene VII
    8. Scene VIII
    9. Scene IX
    10. Scene X
    11. Scene XI
    12. Scene XII
    13. Scene XIII
    14. Scene XIV
    15. Scene XV
    16. Scene XVI
    17. Scene XVII
    18. Scene XVIII
    19. Scene XIX
    20. Scene XX
    21. Scene XXI
    22. Scene XXII
    23. Scene XXIII
    24. Scene XXIV
    25. Scene XXV
  6. Part V And do not fear to hope. Can poet’s brain More than the Father’s heart rich good invent? Each time we smell the autumn’s dying scent, We know the primrose time will come again; Not more we hope, nor less would soothe our pain. Be bounteous in thy faith, for not mis-spent Is confidence unto the Father lent: Thy need is sown and rooted for his rain. His thoughts are as thine own; nor are his ways Other than thine, but by pure opulence Of beauty infinite and love immense. Work on. One day, beyond all thoughts of praise, A sunny joy will crown thee with its rays; Nor other than thy need, thy recompense.
    1. A dream. Scene I
    2. Scene II
    3. Scene III
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Within and Without

George MacDonald

kostenlos · 36.140 Wörter · ~2 Std. Lesezeit

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(von vorn beginnen)

To L. P. M. D.

Receive thine own; for I and it are thine.
Thou know’st its story; how for forty days—
Weary with sickness and with social haze,
(After thy hands and lips with love divine
Had somewhat soothed me, made the glory shine,
Though with a watery lustre,) more delays
Of blessedness forbid—I took my ways
Into a solitude, Invention’s mine;
There thought and wrote, afar, and yet with thee.
Those days gone past, I came, and brought a book;
My child, developed since in limb and look.
It came in shining vapours from the sea,
And in thy stead sung low sweet songs to me,
When the red life-blood labour would not brook.

May, 1855.

What life it is, and how that all these lives do gather—
With outward maker’s force, or like an inward father.

Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia

Part I

Go thou into thy closet; shut thy door;
And pray to Him in secret: He will hear.
But think not thou, by one wild bound, to clear
The numberless ascensions, more and more,
Of starry stairs that must be climbed, before
Thou comest to the Father’s likeness near,
And bendest down to kiss the feet so dear
That, step by step, their mounting flights passed o’er.
Be thou content if on thy weary need
There falls a sense of showers and of the spring;
A hope that makes it possible to fling
Sickness aside, and go and do the deed;
For highest aspiration will not lead
Unto the calm beyond all questioning.

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—

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Within and Without von George MacDonald. Der Text ist in den USA gemeinfrei, aus der Standard-Ebooks-Ausgabe. Wir liefern ihn aus unserer eigenen Kopie aus; lies auf ihrer Website die vollständige Ausgabe mit Bildern und Typografie.

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