Explore "A Cry" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Lord, hear my discontent: all blank I stand, / A mirror polished by thy hand; / Thy sun's beams flash and flame from me -- / I cannot help it: here I stand, there he!
To one of them I cannot say, / Go, and on yonder water play; / Nor one poor ragged daisy can I fashion -- / I do not make the words of this my limping passion!