A fantasy novel by George MacDonald

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Rise the limbs, sedately sloping,
Strong and gentle, full and free ; Soft and slow, like certain hoping,
Drawing nigh the broad firm knee. Up to speech ! As up to roses
Pants the life from leaf to flower, So each blending change discloses,
Nearer still, expression's power.
Lo! fair sweeps, white surges, twining
Up and outward fearlessly ! Temple columns, close combining,
Lift a holy mystery. Heart of mine! what strange surprises
Mount aloft on such a stair ! Some great vision upward rises,
Curving, bending, floating fair.
Bands and sweeps, and hill and hollow
Lead my fascinated eye; Some apocalypse will follow,
Some new word of deity. Zoned unseen, and outward swelling,
With new thoughts and wonders rife, Queenly majesty foretelling,
See the expanding house of life!
Sudden heaving, unforbidden
Sighs eternal, still the same— Mounts of snow have summits hidden
In the mists of uttered flame. . But the spirit, dawning nearly,
Finds no speech for earnest pain; Finds a soundless sighing merely—
Builds its stairs, and mounts again.
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