Poems by George MacDonald

The lightning and thunder

I took it for a bird of prey that soared

Who know thee, love: thy life be such

PART I.

PART I.

Ah me! in ages far away,

0 Lord, my God, how long

Babe Jesus lay in Mary's lap,

THE YEAR OF THE TROUBLE IN LANCASHIRE.

Loving looks the large-eyed cow,

Lord, hear my discontent: all blank I stand,

When the clock hath ceased to tick

A child was born in sin and shame,

I dreamed of a song--I heard it sung;

THE OUTER DREAM.

The stars are spinning their threads,

When God's own child came down to earth,

O Mother Earth, I have a fear

My gift would find thee fast asleep,

Proudly the youth, by manhood sudden crowned,

TO MY FATHER:

Rose o' my hert,

I will think as thinks the rabbit:--

The croak of a raven hoar!

'Tis a poor drizzly morning, dark and sad.

Queen Mary one day Jesus sent

I.

I.

My thoughts are like fire-flies, pulsing in moonlight;

Everything goes to its rest;

Thou who mad'st the mighty clock

When I look back upon my life nigh spent,

All sights and sounds of day and year,

All sights and sounds of every year,

Now far from my old northern land,

Thou foldest me in sickness;

The hinges are so rusty

Ane by ane they gang awa;

Hark, in the steeple the dull bell swinging

I dreamed of a song, I heard it sung;

I would I were an angel strong,

A brown bird sang on a blossomy tree,

I dinna ken what's come ower me!

Lord Jesus,

Job xiv. 13-15.

INTRODUCTION.

TO THEM THAT MOURN.

The veil hath lifted and hath fallen; and him

I Thank Thee, boundless Giver,

I.

Come through the gloom of clouded skies,

Sighing above,

Methinks I see thee, lying straight and low,

"If I sit in the dust

"It is only just

The monk was praying in his cell,

The monk was praying in his cell,

I have long enough been working down in my cellar,

I.

Are the leaves falling round about

I am a bubble

The stars cleave the sky.

My wife contrived a fleecy thing

In the ancient house of ages,

They were parted at last, although

Came of old to houses lonely

Annie she's dowie, and Willie he's wae:

Daylight fades away.

If in my arms I bore my child,

When thou turn'st away from ill,

Heaven and the sea attend the dying day,

Autumn clouds are flying, flying

Along the tops of all the yellow trees,

The stars are all watching;

Where did you come from, baby dear?

"Come, children, put away your toys;

It's all very well,

Better to smell the violet

Better to smell a violet,

I will sing a song,

A quiet heart, submissive, meek,

As Jesus went into Jericho town,

"My life is drear; walking I labour sore;

Methought I stood among the stars alone,

Brother artist, help me; come!

Close her eyes: she must not peep!

Star high,

Beautiful stories wed with lovely days

He who by a mother's love

Cold my heart, and poor, and low,

Well for youth to seek the strong,

Christmas-Days are still in store:--

Great-hearted child, thy very being The Son,

Though in my heart no Christmas glee,

I think I might be weary of this day

Wash the window; rub it dry;

Still am I haunting

Come to me, come to me, O my God;

Come unto me, the Master says:--

When the snow is on the earth

I.

Lie down upon the ground, thou hopeless one!

Lord, according to thy words,

Out of the gulf into the glory,

When I am dead unto myself, and let,

Mourn not, my friends, that we are growing old:

When in the bosom of the eldest night

'Tis the midnight hour; I heard

A Symbol.

When, like a garment flung aside at night,

Yes, there is one who makes us all lay down

O Father, I am in the dark,

If I might guess, then guess I would

An angel saw me sitting by a brook,

"What! you Dr. Doddridge's dog, and not know who made you?"

Dark, as if it would not tell,

Graut Euch nicht, Ihr lieben Leute,

No bird can sing in tune but that the Lord

O God, whose daylight leadeth down

'Tis not the violent hands alone that bring

Farewell, O Arm of the Lord!

"Earth, if aught should check thy race,

Would-be prophets tell us

[The fact which suggested this poem is related by Clarke in his Travels.]

[The fact to which the following verses refer, is related by Dr. Edward Clarke in his Travels.]

Oft, as I rest in quiet peace, am I

Here is a temple strangely wrought:

I do remember how, when very young,

Waking in the night to pray,

The miser lay on his lonely bed;

God gives his child upon his slate a sum--

Some men there are who cannot spare

When the summer gave us a longer day,

Uplifted is the stone

Whan Andrew frae Strathbogie gaed

"And yet it moves!" Ah, Truth, where wert thou then

I.

Dead art thou? No more dead than was the maid

I said, I will arise and work some thing,

Gray clouds my heaven have covered o'er;

Little one, you must not fret

"What maks ye sae canty, granny dear?

Greitna, father, that I'm gauin,

Sweep up the flure, Janet;

The warl it's dottit wi' hames

I am weary, and very lonely,

Of whispering trees the tongues to hear,

Ance was a woman wha's hert was gret;

If thou art tempted by a thought of ill,

A tattered soldier, gone the glow and gloss,

An unborn bird lies crumpled and curled,

Summer is come again. The sun is bright,

"Where is thy crown, O tree of Love?

How shall he sing who hath no song?

Father, I cry to thee for bread

Father, in the dark I lay,

What gars ye sing sae, birdie,

I know what beauty is, for thou

Yes, Master, when thou comest thou shalt find

I would I were a child,

I would I were a child,

If I were a monk, and thou wert a nun,

There may be seeming calm above, but no!--

Of the poor bird that cannot fly

Now in the dark of February rains,

The mountain-stream may humbly boast

As to her child a mother calls,

In the winter, flowers are springing;

King Cole he reigned in Aureoland,

Prince Breacan of Denmark was lord of the strand

I.

I.

Sometimes, O Lord, thou lightest in my head

Is there a secret Joy, that may not weep,

O Thou that walkest with nigh hopeless feet

First-born of the creating Voice!

First-born of the creating Voice!

Little Bo-Peep, she has lost her sheep,

Little Boy Blue lost his way in a wood--

I have a puppet-jointed child,

I have an elfish maiden child;

My heart is full of inarticulate pain,

Away from the city's herds!

I missed him when the sun began to bend;

Lost the little one roams about,

Love is the part, and love is the whole;

Love alone is great in might,

Love, the baby,

A recollection and attempted completion of a prose fragment read in boyhood.

A recollection and attempted completion of a prose fragment read in childhood.

A name of the Year. Some say the word means a march of wolves, which wolves, running in single file, are the Months of the Year.

"They have no more wine!" she said.

"WHO is this little one lying,"

The stars are steady abune;

O Lord of life, thy quickening voice

Beautiful mother is busy all day,

When thy heart, love-filled, grows graver,

"My eyes make pictures, when they are shut."

I.

Why dost thou want to sing

I heard, in darkness, on my bed,

To G. E. M.

'Tis a little room, my friend;

I.

I like ye weel upo Sundays, Nannie,

Nature, to him no message dost thou bear

I have not any fearful tale to tell

There is a river

O Lord, if on the wind, at cool of day,

I love thy skies, thy sunny mists,

Tumultuous rushing o'er the outstretched plains;

What dost thou here, O soul,

O do not leave me, mother, lest I weep;

O lassie ayont the hill,

O Lord, How Happy!

O wind of God, that blowest in the mind,

Trust him in the common light;

Loosener of springs, he died by thee!

I. I honour Nature, holding it unjust

Oh that a wind would call

Sad-hearted, be at peace: the snowdrop lies

I.

Whence do ye come, ye creatures? Each of you

Hears't thou the dash of water, loud and hoarse,

I have a fellowship with every shade

Had I a great ship coming home,

I.

I.

Power that is not of God, however great,

We doubt the word that tells us: Ask,

Nobody knows the world but me.

Above my head the great pine-branches tower;

Mourner, that dost deserve thy mournfulness,

Quiet, quiet dead,

Her mother, Elfie older grown,

"Rejoice," said the Sun; "I will make thee gay

I.

A power is on me, and my soul must speak

I.

Heart, thou must learn to do without--

I do not know thy final will,

I follow, tottering, in the funeral train

Strait is the path? He means we must not roam?

In that high country whither thou art gone,

Oh holy Sabbath bells,

Said the boy as he read, "I too will be bold,

O Peter, wherefore didst thou doubt?

Rich is the fancy which can double back

All things are shadows of thee, Lord;

I cannot praise thee. By his instrument

On the far horizon there

"Shew us the Father." Chiming stars of space,

"Good morrow, my lord!" in the sky alone

Oh! is it Death that comes

Lord, I have laid my heart upon thy altar

A Microcosm In Terza Rima.

I was very cold

Lighter and sweeter

She loves thee, loves thee not!

Why do the houses stand

Roses all the rosy way!

Merry, merry we well may be,

JANUARY 26, 1885.

With us there is no gray fearing,

I shall be satisfied

In his arms thy silly lamb,

Mercy to thee, O Lord, belongs,

Lord, what is man

I.

I.

I.

I.

I.

I.

I.

I.

"I do beseech Thee, God, show me thy face."

If Thou hadst been a sculptor, what a race

"There, Buonarotti, stands thy statue. Take

Some men I have beheld with wonderment,

If Thou hadst been a painter, what fresh looks,

So if Thou hadst been scorned in human eyes,

But I have looked on pictures made by man,

And is not Earth thy living picture, where

If Thou hadst been a Poet! On my heart

Thou wouldst have led us through the twilight land

But as Thou earnest forth to bring the Poor,

The eye was shut in men; the hearing ear

So highest poets, painters, owe to Thee

So, as Thou wert the seed and not the flower,

All divine artists, humble, filial,

Men may pursue the Beautiful, while they

And yet I fear lest men who read these lines,

The highest marble Sorrow vanishes

Thou art before me, and I see no more

Methinks I see thee, lying calm and low,

Inscribed to S.F.S.

Inscribed to S.F.S., about her father.

Inscribed to S.F.S.

Inscribed to S.F.S.

I pray you, all ye men who put your trust

Days of old,

Here stands a giant stone from whose far top

If thou wouldst live the Truth in very deed,

There is a bellowing in me, as of might

Summer, sweet Summer, many-fingered Summer!

"Murmuring, 'twixt a murmur and moan,

First came the red-eyed sun as I did wake;

DECEMBER 28, 1879.

Sweep and sweep and sweep the floor,

Grief held me silent in my seat;

"Traveller, what lies over the hill?

They all were looking for a king

Satan, avaunt!

There was an auld fisher, he sat by the wa',

Lord, I'm an auld man,

Now have I grown a sharpness and an edge

I.

Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur the yorlin sings,

The water ran doon frae the heich hope-heid,

Is there a man on earth, who, every night,

Thrice-happy he whose heart, each new-born night,

0 Lord, at Joseph's humble bench

Heavily slumbered noonday bright

Heavily lay the warm sunlight

The infant lies in blessed ease

"Little one, who straight hast come

Methought I floated sightless, nor did know

A clock aeonian, steady and tall,

I.

The Lord gaed wi' a crood o' men

And must I ever wake, gray dawn, to know

The witch lady walked along the strand,

The weary Old Year is dead at last;

The Deil's forhooit his ain, his ain!

DEDICATION

1.

1.

1.

Sweet friends, receive my offering. You will find

1.

1.

1.

1.

1.

1.

1.

1.

1.

DEDICATION.

FROM SCHILLER.

I.

Down a warm alley, early in the year,

A little bird sat on the edge of her nest;

Where went the feet that hitherto have come?

'Tis we, not in thine arms, who weep and pray;

Of old, with goodwill from the skies--

A harebell hung her wilful head:

There was a girl that lost things--

To give a thing and take again

In God alone, the perfect end,

From off the earth the vapours curled,

With joyful pride her heart is high:

She sitteth at the Master's feet

With wandering eyes and aimless zeal,

Why came in dreams the low-born man

I.

She knelt, she bore a bold request,

"Grant, Lord, her prayer, and let her go;

Forth from the city, with the load

Here much and little shift and change,

A still dark joy! A sudden face!

In the hot sun, for water cool

Filled with his words of truth and right,

His face, his words, her heart awoke;

Near him she stole, rank after rank;

For years eighteen she, patient soul,

Enough he labours for his hire;

Had I the grace to win the grace

Suggested by a drawing of Thomas Moran, the American painter.

They come to thee, the halt, the maimed, the blind,

"What gars ye sing," said the herd-laddie,

Behind my father's cottage lies

Behind my father's house there lies

Ah, holy midnight of the soul,

Of old, with goodwill from the skies,

"Death, whaur do ye bide, auld Death?"

Through still, bare streets, and cold moonshine

Still flowed the music, flowed the wine.

Within each living man there doth reside,

I.

In the air why such a ringing?

"O lat me in, my bonny lass!

The Man says:

There is not any weed but hath its shower,

Out of thy door I run to do the thing

Look! look there!

Brothers, look there!

"Thou wanderest in the land of dreams,

Up cam the tide wi' a burst and a whush,

Kiss me: there now, little Neddy,

She comes! again she comes, the bright-eyed moon!

Be welcome, year! with corn and sickle come;

The brother knew well the castle old,

I.

Bing, Bim, Bang, Bome!

When peevish flaws his soul have stirred

I.

Speak, Prophet of the Lord! We may not start

Doon cam the sunbeams, and up gaed the stour,

A Part Of The Story Omitted In The Old Romances.

My little boy, with smooth, fair cheeks,

The thousand streets of London gray

'Tis time to sleep, my little boy:

See how the storm of life ascends

O Lord, I cannot but believe

Methought that in a solemn church I stood.

When the cock crows loud from the glen,

In the desert by the bush,

My little child receives my gift,

My Lily snatches not my gift;

It is May, and the moon leans down at night

Within my heart a worm had long been hid.

What shall I be?--I will be a knight

Alas, 'tis cold and dark!

I envy the tree-tops that shake so high

Stately, lang-robit, an' steppin at ease,

I.

"I do beseech thee, God, show me thy face."

Forth to his study the sculptor goes

There cam a man to oor toon-en',

When things are holding wonted pace

From out a windy cleft there comes a gaze

Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out!

Chained is the Spring. The Night-wind bold

Where the bud has never blown

The wind it blew, and the ship it flew,

They are blind, and they are dead:

The rich man sat in his father's seat--

Thy world is made to fit thine own,

Cry out upon the crime, and then let slip

Make not of thy heart a casket,

A lang-backit, spilgie, fuistit auld carl

As I was walkin on the strand,

I cannot write old verses here,

Such guests as you, sir, were not in my mind

I know not what among the grass thou art,

A fresh young voice that sings to me

Oh, melancholy fragment of the night

When, long ago, the daring of my youth

WITH THE FOLLOWING POEM.

Thus, once, long since, the daring of my youth

Seek not my name--it doth no virtue bear;

If I did seem to you no more

Go not forth to call Dame Sorrow

Ray of the Dawn of Truth, Aubrey de Vere,

To God and man be simply true;

To God and man be simply true:

A broken tale of endless things,

The sun is sinking in the west,

When at Philippi, he who would have freed

The silence of traitorous feet!

Ah, truant, thou art here again, I see!

Men sought, ambition's thirst to slake,

It is no winter night comes down

I.

Oh how oft I wake and find

Imagination cannot rise above thee;

0 Earth, Earth, Earth,

I.

O sister, God is very good--

I.

When, with all the loved around thee,

They say that lonely sorrows do not chance:

Through the unchanging heaven, as ye have sped,

Thou art my thought, my heart, my being's fortune,

Dead, why defend thee, who in life

My TO-MORROW is but a flitting

Lord, keep us by thy word in hope,

Long ago, there lived far to the west a very young man, good, but extremely odd. He tormented himself continually about this nothing and that nothing, always walked in silence and straight before him, sat down alone when the others were at their spor

A new song here shall be begun--

Jesus Christ, our Saviour true

Praised be thou, O Jesus Christ,

Now let us pray the Holy Ghost,

Let God be blest, be praised, and be thanked,

Christ Jesus, our Redeemer born,

Dear Christians, let us now rejoice,

Her, the worthy maid, my heart doth hold,

From heaven high I come to you,

To Jordan when our Lord had gone,

Come, saviour of nations wild,

From heaven the angel-troop come near

Jesus we now must laud and sing,

I am content. In triumph's tone

Of all the joys earth possesses,

In the midst of life, we are

LX.

PEACE.

Death held our Lord in prison

Herod, why dreadest thou a foe

In these epigrams I have altered the form, which in the original is the elegiac distich.

In these epigrams I have altered the form, which in the original is the elegiac distich.

Men talk with their lips and dream with their soul

I.

True love, knight, as to a brother,

In these epigrams I have altered the form, which in the original is the elegiac distich.

AFTER THE MANNER OF HANS SACHS.

IV.

Ah, from out this valley hollow,

Night lay upon mine eyelids;

I dreamt of the daughter of a king,

In the sunny summer morning

The phantoms of times forgotten

O Lady fair, whose honoured name doth grace

As in the twilight brown, on hillside bare,

Ladies, and youths that in their favour bask,

Diodati--and I muse to tell the tale--

Certes, my lady sweet, your blessed eyes--

A modest youth, in love a simpleton,

In these epigrams I have altered the form, which in the original is the elegiac distich.

To the tune--Ein Lappisch Mann: A Silly Man.

I am so weary with the burden old

The elect angels and the souls in bliss,

I.

Poems are painted window-panes:

Psyche moans, in deep-sunk, darksome prison,

I.

In peace and joy I now depart,

Son, first-born, at home abiding!

I.

Up there, upon yonder mountain,

I.

In one true God we all believe,

"Which of you, knight or squire, will dare

In a garden sweet went walking

Although the fools say with their mouth:

Our God he is a castle strong,

The grave is deep and soundless,

From trouble deep I cry to thee;

Happy who in God's fear doth stay,

Were God not with us all the time--

1. Chorus: Kyrie, 2. Chorus: Eleison.

Our Father in the heaven who art,

In the far forest, overhead,

"How far the world lies under me!

Sleep, baby boy, sleep sweet, secure;

The principle whence everything

Unto the seer, Isaiah, it was given

Would that the Lord would grant us grace,

The first Choir.--Lord God, thee praise do we.

I.

That was the sound of the wicket!

Ah God, from heaven look down and view;

Three words I will tell you, of meaning full:

You have two ears--and but one mouth:

Bands of dark and bands of light

Few in joy's sweet riot

I'm a puir man I grant,

Oh that men would praise the Lord

When the heart is a cup

I came upon a fountain on my way

Were thou and I the white pinions

I.

Comes there, O Earth, no breathing time for thee,

The sun is gone down

What would you see, if I took you up

I waited for the Master

Lie, little cow, and chew thy cud,

This is the way we wash the clo'es

Were I a skilful painter,

Doon frae Jerus'lem a traveller took

Winter froze both brook and well;

The homely words how often read!

The bairns i' their beds, worn oot wi' nae wark,

Trust my father, saith the eldest-born;

When the storm was proudest,

Who lights the fire--that forth so gracefully

Who would have thought that even an idle song

Content Primroses,

Willie speaks.

Win' that blaws the simmer plaid

They were parted then at last?

TO E.M. II.

What life it is, and how that all these lives do gather--

I woke at midnight, and my heart,

Shepherd, on before thy sheep,

O wild and dark! a night hath found me now

To whom the heavy burden clings,