Song Of The Waiting Dead
With us there is no gray fearing, With us no aching for lack! For the morn it is always nearing, And the night is at our back. At times a song will fall dumb, A thought-bell burst in a sigh, But no one says, "He will not come!" She says, "He is almost nigh!" The thing you call a sorrow Is our delight on its way: We know that the coming morrow Comes on the wheels of to-day! Our Past is a child asleep; Delay is ripening the kiss; The rising tear we will not weep Until it flow for bliss.
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"With us there is no gray fearing,..."
This evocative piece by George MacDonald, titled "Song Of The Waiting Dead", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...