Reciprocity

    Her mother, Elfie older grown,
    One evening, for adieu,
    Said, "You'll not mind being left alone,
    For God takes care of you!"

    In child-way her heart's eye did see
    The correlation's node:
    "Yes," she said, "God takes care o' me,
    An' I take care o' God."

    The child and woman were the same,
    She changed not, only grew;
    'Twixt God and her no shadow came:
    The true is always true!

    As daughter, sister, promised wife,
    Her heart with love did brim:
    Now, sure, it brims as full of life,
    Hid fourteen years in him!


1892.

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

Little Bo-Peep

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Translations. - The Twelfth Psalm. (Luther's Song-Book.)

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

My Room

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Shew Us The Father

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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A Father To A Mother

    When God's own child came down to earth,
    High heaven was very glad;
    The angels sang for holy mirth;
    Not God himself was sad!

    Shall we, when ours goes homeward, fret?
    Come, Hope, and wait on Sorrow!
    The little one will not forget;
    It's only till to-morrow!

George MacDonald

Little Elfie.

I have an elfish maiden child;
    She is not two years old;
Through windy locks her eyes gleam wild,
    With glances shy and bold.

Like little imps, her tiny hands
    Dart out and push and take;
Chide her--a trembling thing she stands,
    And like two leaves they shake.

But to her mind a minute gone
    Is like a year ago;
So when you lift your eyes anon,
    They're at it, to and fro.

Sometimes, though not oppressed with thought,
    She has her sleepless fits;
Then to my room in blanket brought,
    In round-backed chair she sits;

Where, if by chance in graver mood,
    A hermit she appears,
Seated in cave of ancient wood,
    Grown very still with years.

Then suddenly the pope she is,
    A playful ...

George MacDonald

The Children's Heaven.

    The infant lies in blessed ease
        Upon his mother's breast;
    No storm, no dark, the baby sees
        Invade his heaven of rest.
    He nothing knows of change or death--
        Her face his holy skies;
    The air he breathes, his mother's breath;
        His stars, his mother's eyes!

    Yet half the soft winds wandering there
        Are sighs that come of fears;
    The dew slow falling through that air--
        It is the dew of tears;
    And ah, my child, thy heavenly home
        Hath storms as well as dew;
    Black clouds fill sometimes all its dome,
        And quench the starry blue!

    "My smile would win no smile again,
        If baby saw the things
    That ache across his mother's brain
        The whi...

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To A. J. Scott

    When, long ago, the daring of my youth
    Drew nigh thy greatness with a little thing,
    Thou didst receive me; and thy sky of truth

    Has domed me since, a heaven of sheltering,
    Made homely by the tenderness and grace
    Which round thy absolute friendship ever fling

    A radiant atmosphere. Turn not thy face
    From that small part of earnest thanks, I pray,
    Which, spoken, leaves much more in speechless case.

    I see thee far before me on thy way
    Up the great peaks, and striding stronger still;
    Thy intellect unrivalled in its sway,

    Upheld and ordered by a regnant will;
    Thy wisdom, seer and priest of holy fate,
    Searching all truths its prophecy to fill;

    But this my joy: throned in thy hear...

George MacDonald

Sympathy

    Grief held me silent in my seat;
        I neither moved nor smiled:
    Joy held her silent at my feet,
        My shining lily-child.

    She raised her face and looked in mine;
        She deemed herself denied;
    The door was shut, there was no shine;
        Poor she was left outside!

    Once, twice, three times, with infant grace
        Her lips my name did mould;
    Her face was pulling at my face--
        She was but ten months old.

    I saw; the sight rebuked my sighs;
        It made me think--Does God
    Need help from his poor children's eyes
        To ease him of his load?

    Ah, if he did, how seldom then
        The Father would be glad!
    If comfort lay in the eyes of men,
        He little...

George MacDonald

In The Night

As to her child a mother calls,
"Come to me, child; come near!"
Calling, in silent intervals,
The Master's voice I hear.

But does he call me verily?
To have me does he care?
Why should he seek my poverty,
My selfishness so bare?

The dear voice makes his gladness brim,
But not a child can know
Why that large woman cares for him,
Why she should love him so!

Lord, to thy call of me I bow,
Obey like Abraham:
Thou lov'st me because thou art thou,
And I am what I am!

Doubt whispers, Thou art such a blot
He cannot love poor thee:
If what I am he loveth not,
He loves what I shall be.

Nay, that which can be drawn and wooed,
And turned away from ill,
Is what his father made for good:
He loves me, I ...

George MacDonald