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lirik lagu richard mitchley - december 23rd 1879 by george macdonald

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a thousand houses of poesy stand around me everywhere;
they fill the earth and they fill my thought, they are in and above the
air;
but to~night they have shut their doors, they have shut their shining
windows fair
and i am left in a desert world, with an aching as if of care

cannot i break some little nut and get at the poetry in it?
cannot i break the shining egg of some all but hatched heavenly linnet?
cannot i find some beauty~worm, and its moony cocoon~silk spin it?
cannot i find my all but lost day in the rich content of a minute?

i will sit me down, all aching and tired, in the midst of this never~unclosing
of door or window that makes it look as if truth herself were dozing;
i will sit me down and make me a tent, call it poetizing or prosing
of what may be lying within my reach, things at my poor disposing!

now what is nearest?~my conscious self. here i sit quiet and say:
‘lo, i myself am already a house of poetry solemn and gay!
but, alas, the windows are shut, all shut: ’tis a cold and foggy day
and i have not now the light to see what is in me the same alway!’

nay, rather i’ll say: ‘i am a nut in the hard and frozen ground;
above is the damp and frozen air, the cold blue sky all round;
and the power of a leafy and branchy tree is in me crushed and bound
till the summer come and set it free from the grave~clothes in which it is wound!’
but i bethink me of something better!~something better, yea best!
‘i am lying a voiceless, featherless thing in god’s own perfect nest;
and the voice and the song are growing within me, slowly lifting my
breast;
and his wide night~wings are closed about me, for his sun is down in the west!’

doors and windows, tents and grave~clothes, winters and eggs and seeds
ye shall all be opened and broken and torn; ye are but to serve my needs!
on the will of the father all lovely things are strung like a string of
beads
for his heart to give the obedient child that the will of the father heeds


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