A Lown Nicht

Rose o' my hert,
    Open yer leaves to the lampin mune;
Into the curls lat her keek an' dert,
    She'll tak the colour but gie ye tune.

Buik o' my brain,
    Open yer faulds to the starry signs;
Lat the e'en o' the holy luik an' strain,
    Lat them glimmer an' score atween the lines.

Cup o' my soul,
    Goud an' diamond an' ruby cup,
Ye're noucht ava but a toom dry bowl
    Till the wine o' the kingdom fill ye up.

Conscience-glass,
    Mirror the en'less All in thee;
Melt the boundered and make it pass
    Into the tideless, shoreless sea.

Warl o' my life,
    Swing thee roun thy sunny track;
Fire an' win' an' water an' strife,
    Carry them a' to the glory back.

George MacDonald

George MacDonald (1824–1905) was a Scottish author, poet, and Christian minister best known for his fairy tales and fantasy novels. He was a pioneer in the fantasy genre, influencing notable writers such as C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. His major works include "Phantastes" and "Lilith," as well as numerous poems and other literary works. MacDonald's writings are characterized by their imaginative qualities and deep spiritual insight.

George MacDonald

Baby.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

A Make-Believe

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Room To Roam

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

I Ken Something.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Mirls

The stars are steady abune;
    I' the water they flichter and flee;
But, steady aye, luikin doon
    They ken theirsels i' the sea.

A' licht, and clear, and free,
    God, thou shinest abune;
Yet luik, and see thysel in me,
    Aye on me luikin doon.



Throu the heather an' how gaed the creepin thing,
But abune was the waff o' an angel's wing.



Hither an' thither, here an' awa,
Into the dub ye maunna fa';
Oot o' the dub wad ye come wi' speed,
Ye maun lift yer han's abune yer heid.



Whaur's nor sun nor mune,
Laigh things come abune.



My thouchts are like worms in a starless gloamin
    My hert's like a sponge that's fillit wi' gall;
My soul's like a bodiless ghaist sent a roamin...

George MacDonald

Win' That 'Blaws

Win' that blaws the simmer plaid
Ower the hie hill's shoothers laid,
Green wi' gerse, an' reid wi' heather--
Welcome wi' yer sowl-like weather!
Mony a win' there has been sent
Oot aneth the firmament--
Ilka ane its story has;
Ilka ane began an' was;
Ilka ane fell quaiet an' mute
Whan its angel wark was oot:
First gaed are oot throu the mirk
Whan the maker gan to work;
Ower it gaed an' ower the sea,
An' the warl begud to be.
Mony are has come an' gane
Sin' the time there was but ane:
Ane was grit an' strong, an' rent
Rocks an' muntains as it went
Afore the Lord, his trumpeter,
Waukin up the prophet's ear;
Ane was like a stepping soun
I' the mulberry taps abune--
Them the Lord's ain steps did swing,
Walkin on afore his king;

George MacDonald

The Laverock

The Man says:

Laverock i' the lift,
Hae ye nae sang-thrift,
'At ye scatter 't sae heigh, and lat it a' drift?
        Wasterfu laverock!

Dinna ye ken
'At ye hing ower men
Wha haena a sang or a penny to spen?
        Hertless laverock!

But up there you,
I' the bow o' the blue,
Haud skirlin on as gien a' war new!
        Toom-heidit laverock!

Haith, ye're ower blythe!
I see a great scythe
Swing whaur yer nestie lies, doon i' the lythe,
        Liltin laverock!

Eh, sic a soun!
Birdie, come doun,
Ye're fey to sing sic a merry tune!
        Gowkit laverock!

Come to yer nest;
Yer wife's sair prest,
She's clean worn oot wi' duin her best!
        Rovin laverock!

Winna ye hau...

George MacDonald

The Bonny, Bonny Dell

Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur the yorlin sings,
Wi' a clip o' the sunshine atween his wings;
Whaur the birks are a' straikit wi' fair munelicht,
And the brume hings its lamps by day and by nicht;
Whaur the burnie comes trottin ower shingle and stane
Liltin bonny havers til 'tsel its lane;
And the sliddery troot wi' ae soop o' its tail
Is ahint the green weed's dark swingin veil!
Oh, the bonny, bonny dell, whaur I sang as I saw
The yorlin, the brume, and the burnie, and a'!

Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur the primroses won,
Luikin oot o' their leaves like wee sons o' the sun;
Whaur the wild roses hing like flickers o' flame,
And fa' at the touch wi' a dainty shame;
Whaur the bee swings ower the white-clovery sod,
And the butterfly flits like a stray thouch...

George MacDonald

Songs Of The Autumn Nights

    I.

    O night, send up the harvest moon
    To walk about the fields,
    And make of midnight magic noon
    On lonely tarns and wealds.

    In golden ranks, with golden crowns,
    All in the yellow land,
    Old solemn kings in rustling gowns,
    The shocks moon-charmed stand.

    Sky-mirror she, afloat in space,
    Beholds our coming morn:
    Her heavenly joy hath such a grace,
    It ripens earthly corn;

    Like some lone saint with upward eyes,
    Lost in the deeps of prayer:
    The people still their prayers and sighs,
    And gazing ripen there.

    II.

    So, like the corn moon-ripened last,
    Would I, weary and gray,
    On golden memories ripen fast,
    And ripening pass awa...

George MacDonald

Wild Flowers

    Content Primroses,
    With hearts at rest in your thick leaves' soft care,
    Peeping as from his mother's lap the child
    Who courts shy shelter from his own open air!--
    Hanging Harebell,
    Whose blue heaven to no wanderer ever closes,
    Though thou still lookest earthward from thy domed cell!--
    Fluttering-wild
    Anemone, so well
    Named of the Wind, to whom thou, fettered-free,
    Yieldest thee, helpless--wilfully,
    With Take me or leave me,
    Sweet Wind, I am thine own Anemone!--
    Thirsty Arum, ever dreaming
    Of lakes in wildernesses gleaming!--
    Fire-winged Pimpernel,
    Communing with some hidden well,
    And secrets with the sun-god holding,
    At fixed hour folding and unfolding!--
    How ...

George MacDonald