George MacDonald Poems

Come through the gloom of clouded skies,
The slow dim rain and fog athwart;
Through east winds keen with wrong and lies
...

It's all very well,
Said the Bell,
To be the big Organ below!
But the folk come and go,
...

My thoughts are like fire-flies, pulsing in moonlight;
My heart like a silver cup, filled with red wine;
...

I am a bubble
Upon thy ever-moving, resting sea:
Oh, rest me now from tossing, trespass, trouble!
Take me down into thee.
...

I was very cold
In the summer weather;
The sun shone all his gold,
But I was very cold-
...

Sighing above,
Rustling below,
Thorough the woods
The winds go.
...

Mourner, that dost deserve thy mournfulness,
Call thyself punished, call the earth thy hell;
Say, 'God is angry, and I earned it well-
...

Love, the baby,
Crept abroad to pluck a flower:
One said, Yes, sir; one said, Maybe;
One said, Wait the hour.
...

1.
LORD, what I once had done with youthful might,
Had I been from the first true to the truth,
Grant me, now old, to do-with better sight,
...

I love thy skies, thy sunny mists,
Thy fields, thy mountains hoar,
Thy wind that bloweth where it lists-
Thy will, I love it more.
...