Explore "When the Storm was Proudest" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When the storm was proudest, / And the wind was loudest, / I heard the hollow caverns drinking down below; / When the stars were bright, / And the ground was white, / I heard the grasses springing underneath the snow.
Many voices spake -- / The river to the lake, / And the iron-ribbed sky was talking to the sea; / And every starry spark / Made music with the dark, / And said how bright and beautiful everything must be.
When the sun was setting, / All the clouds were getting / Beautiful and silvery in the rising moon; / Beneath the leafless trees / Wrangling in the breeze, / I could hardly see them for the leaves of June.
When the day had ended, / And the night descended, / I heard the sound of streams that I heard not through the day, / And every peak afar / Was ready for a star, / And they climbed and rolled around until the morning gray.
Then slumber soft and holy / Came down upon me slowly, / And I went I know not whither, and I lived I know not how; / My glory had been banished, / For when I woke it vanished; / But I waited on its coming, and I am waiting now.