The Poetry Corner

Hard Times

By George MacDonald

I am weary, and very lonely, And can but think--think. If there were some water only That a spirit might drink--drink, And arise, With light in the eyes And a crown of hope on the brow, To walk abroad in the strength of gladness, Not sit in the house, benumbed with sadness-- As now! But, Lord, thy child will be sad-- As sad as it pleases thee; Will sit, not seeking to be glad, Till thou bid sadness flee, And, drawing near, With thy good cheer Awake thy life in me.