George MacDonald Poems

Father, I cry to thee for bread
With hungred longing, eager prayer;
Thou hear'st, and givest me instead
More hunger and a half-despair.
...

The stars are all watching;
God's angel is catching
At thy skirts in the darkness deep!
Gold hinges grating,
...

I have a fellowship with every shade
Of changing nature: with the tempest hour
My soul goes forth to claim her early dower
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Is there a secret Joy, that may not weep,
For every flower that ends its little span,
For every child that groweth up to man,
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1.
ALAS, my tent! see through it a whirlwind sweep!
Moaning, poor Fancy's doves are swept away.
I sit alone, a sorrow half asleep,
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'Tis not the violent hands alone that bring
The curse, the ravage, and the downward doom,
Although to these full oft the yawning tomb
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I.

Blue sky above, blue sea below,
Far off, the old Nile's mouth,
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Great-hearted child, thy very being
The Son
,
Who know'st the hearts of all us prodigals;-
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Still am I haunting
Thy door with my prayers;
Still they are panting
Up thy steep stairs!
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Lord, according to thy words,
I have considered thy birds;
And I find their life good,
And better the better understood:
...