Explore "Unrest" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Comes there, O Earth, no breathing time for thee, / No pause upon thy many-chequered lands?
Now resting on my bed with listless hands / I mourn thee resting not. Continually / Hear I the plashing borders of the sea / Answer each other from the rocks and sands!
Troop all the rivers seawards; nothing stands, / But with strange noises hasteth terribly!
Loam-eared hyenas go a moaning by; / Howls to each other all the bloody crew / Of Afric's tigers! but, O men, from you / Comes this perpetual sound more loud and high / Than aught that vexes air! I hear the cry / Of infant generations rising too!