Explore "The Lily of the Valley" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There is not any weed but hath its shower, / There is not any pool but hath its star; / And black and muddy though the waters are / We may not miss the glory of a flower, / And winter moons will give them magic power / To spin in cylinders of diamond spar; / And everything hath beauty near and far, / And keepeth close and waiteth on its hour!
And I, when I encounter on my road / A human soul that looketh black and grim, / Shall I more ceremonious be than God?
Shall I refuse to watch one hour with him / Who once beside our deepest woe did bud / A patient watching flower about the brim?