Explore "The Prophet" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Speak, Prophet of the Lord! We may not start / To find thee with us in thine ancient dress, / Haggard and pale from some bleak wilderness, / Empty of all save God and thy loud heart, / Nor with like rugged message quick to dart / Into the hideous fiction mean and base; / But yet, O prophet man, we need not less / But more of earnest, though it is thy part / To deal in other words, if thou wouldst smite / The living Mammon, seated, not as then / In bestial quiescence grimly dight, / But _robed as priest, and honoured of good men / Yet_ thrice as much an idol-god as when / He stared at his own feet from morn to night.