Explore "To the Clouds" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Through the unchanging heaven, as ye have sped, / Speed onward still, a strange wild company, / Fleet children of the waters! Glorious ye, / Whether the sun lift up his shining head, / High throned at noontide and established / Among the shifting pillars, or we see / The sable ghosts of air sleep mournfully / Against the sunlight, passionless and dead!
Take thus a glory, oh thou higher Sun, / From all the cloudy labour of man's hand -- / Whether the quickening nations rise and run, / Or in the market-place we idly stand / Casting huge shadows over these thy plains -- / Even thence, O God, draw thy rich gifts of rains.