George MacDonald

(10 December 1824 – 18 September 1905 / Huntly, Aberdeenshire, Scotland)

George MacDonald Poems

401. A Hidden Life 4/8/2010
402. A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - March 4/8/2010
403. A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - April 4/8/2010
404. A Prisoner 4/8/2010
405. Angels 4/8/2010
406. Eine Kleine Predigt 4/8/2010
407. Bedtime 4/8/2010
408. A Dream Of Waking 4/8/2010
409. One With Nature 4/9/2010
410. Traveller's Song 4/9/2010
411. Zacchaeus 4/9/2010
412. Song Of The Saints And Angels 4/9/2010
413. A Christmas Carol For 1862 4/8/2010
414. Autumn's Gold 4/8/2010
415. Evening Hymn 4/8/2010
416. Hope Deferred 4/9/2010
417. A Cry 4/8/2010
418. A Christmas Carol 4/8/2010
419. A Better Thing 4/8/2010
420. Faith 4/8/2010
421. Within And Without: Part I: A Dramatic Poem 4/9/2010
422. The Girl That Lost Things 4/9/2010
423. Blessed Are The Meek, For They Shall Inherit The Earth 4/8/2010
424. A Birth-Day Wish 4/8/2010
425. For Where Your Treasure Is, There Will Your Heart Be Also 4/9/2010
426. A Baby-Sermon 4/8/2010
427. A Dream Song 4/8/2010
428. A Broken Prayer 4/8/2010
429. Baby 4/8/2010
430. Obedience 4/9/2010
431. The Wind And The Moon 4/9/2010
432. Love Is Strength 4/9/2010
433. A Memorial Of Africa 4/8/2010

Comments about George MacDonald

There is no comment submitted by members..
Best Poem of George MacDonald

A Memorial Of Africa


Upon a rock I sat-a mountain-side,
Far, far forsaken of the old sea's lip;
A rock where ancient waters' rise and dip,
Recoil and plunge, eddy, and oscillant tide,
Had worn and worn, while races lived and died,
Involved channels. Where the sea-weed's drip
Followed the ebb, now crumbling lichens sip
Sparse dews of heaven that down with sunset slide.
I sat long-gazing southward. A dry flow
Of withering wind sucked up my drooping strength,
Itself weak from the desert's burning length.
Behind me piled, away and up did go
Great sweeps of savage ...

Read the full of A Memorial Of Africa

A Book Of Dreams: Part I


I lay and dreamed. The master came
In his old woven dress;
I stood in joy, and yet in shame,
Oppressed with earthliness.

He stretched his arms, and gently sought
To clasp me to his soul;

[Report Error]