George MacDonald

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

George MacDonald Poems

321. A Thanksgiving For F. D. Maurice 4/8/2010
322. Riddles 4/9/2010
323. Master And Boy 4/9/2010
324. December 23, 1879 4/8/2010
325. An Improvisation 4/8/2010
326. Annie She's Dowie 4/8/2010
327. Better Things 4/8/2010
328. Mother Nature 4/9/2010
329. My Two Geniuses 4/9/2010
330. Pilate's Wife 4/9/2010
331. Let Your Light So Shine 4/9/2010
332. I Know What Beauty Is 4/9/2010
333. Longing 4/9/2010
334. Home From The Wars 4/9/2010
335. A Prayer 4/8/2010
336. Prayer 4/9/2010
337. On A Movement Of Beethoven’s 4/9/2010
338. God; Not Gift 4/9/2010
339. Dr. Doddridges Dog 4/8/2010
340. Equity 4/8/2010
341. Fighting 4/8/2010
342. Foolish Children 4/9/2010
343. Death 4/8/2010
344. A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - September 4/8/2010
345. A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - August 4/8/2010
346. A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - November 4/8/2010
347. Fate 4/8/2010
348. Doubt Heralding Vision 4/8/2010
349. Hope And Patience 4/9/2010
350. Approaches 4/8/2010
351. A Manchester Poem 4/8/2010
352. No End Of No-Story 4/9/2010
353. Lost And Found 4/9/2010
354. Song Of The Innocents 4/9/2010
355. Confidence 4/8/2010
356. Christmas, 1884 4/8/2010
357. A Christmas Prayer 4/8/2010
358. An Autumn Song 4/8/2010
359. From Home 4/9/2010
360. Noontide Hymn 4/9/2010

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Best Poem of George MacDonald

Little Bo-Peep

Little Bo-Peep, she has lost her sheep,
And will not know where to find them;
They are over the height and out of sight,
Trailing their tails behind them!

Little Bo-Peep woke out of her sleep,
Jump'd up and set out to find them:
'The silly things! they've got no wings,
And they've left their trails behind them!

'They've taken their tails, but they've left their trails,
And so I shall follow and find them!'
For wherever a tail had dragged a trail
The grass lay bent behind them.

She washed in the brook, and caught up her crook.
And after her ...

Read the full of Little Bo-Peep

That Holy Thing

THEY all were looking for a king
   To slay their foes and lift them high:
Thou cam'st, a little baby thing
   That made a woman cry.

O Son of Man, to right my lot
   Naught but Thy presence can avail;
Yet on the road Thy wheels are not,
   Nor on the sea Thy sail!

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