The Twa Baubees.

Stately, lang-robit, an' steppin at ease,
    The rich men gaed up the temple ha';
Hasty, an' grippin her twa baubees,
The widow cam efter, booit an' sma'.

Their goud rang lood as it fell, an' lay
    Yallow an' glintin, bonnie an' braw;
But the fowk roun the Maister h'ard him say
    The puir body's baubees was mair nor it a'.

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

The Christmas Child

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

The Grace Of Grace

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

On A December Day

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Shadows.

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.

The Twa Corbies

As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a maen:
The tane unto the t'ither did say,
"Whaur shall we gang and dine the day?"

"O doun beside yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

"His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate,
Sae we may mak' our dinner sweet.

"O we'll sit on his white hause bane,
And I'll pyke out his bonny blue e'en;
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair
We'll theek our nest when it blaws bare.

"Mony a ane for him makes maen,
But nane shall ken whaur he is gane.
Over his banes when they are bare,
The wind shall blaw for evermair."

George Wharton Edwards

Time And Tide

    As I was walkin on the strand,
        I spied ane auld man sit
    On ane auld black rock; and aye the waves
        Cam washin up its fit.
    His lips they gaed as gien they wad lilt,
        But o' liltin, wae's me, was nane!
    He spak but an owercome, dreary and dreigh,
        A burden wha's sang was gane:
"Robbie and Jeanie war twa bonnie bairns;
    They playt thegither i' the gloamin's hush:
Up cam the tide and the mune and the sterns,
    And pairtit the twa wi' a glint and a gush."

    "What can the auld man mean," quod I,
        "Sittin o' the auld black rock?
    The tide creeps up wi' a moan and a cry,
        And a hiss 'maist like a mock!
    The words he mutters maun be the en'
        O' some weary auld-warl' sang--
   ...

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 Last Wooin

"O lat me in, my bonny lass!
    It's a lang road ower the hill,
And the flauchterin snaw begud to fa'
    On the brig ayont the mill!"

"Here's nae change-hoose, John Munro!"
    "I'll ken that to my cost
Gien ye gar me tak the hill the nicht,
    Wi' snaw o' the back o' frost!

But tell me, lass, what's my offence."
    "Weel ken ye! At the fair
Ye lichtlied me! Ay, twasna ance!--
    Ye needna come nae mair!"

"I lichtlied ye?"--"Ay, ower the glass!"
    "Foul-fa' the ill-faured mou
'At made the leein word to pass
    By rowin 't i' the true!

The trouth is this: I dochtna bide
    To hear yer bonnie name
Whaur lawless mous war openit wide
    Wi' ill-tongued scoff and blame;

And what I said was: 'Hoot, lat sit!...

George MacDonald

The Mermaid

Up cam the tide wi' a burst and a whush,
    And back gaed the stanes wi' a whurr;
The king's son walkit i' the evenin hush,
    To hear the sea murmur and murr.

Straucht ower the water slade frae the mune
    A glimmer o' cauld weet licht;
Ane o' her horns rase the water abune,
    And lampit across the nicht.

Quhat's that, and that, far oot i' the gray,
    The laich mune bobbin afore?
It's the bonny sea-maidens at their play--
    Haud awa, king's son, frae the shore.

Ae rock stude up like an auld aik-root,
    The king's son he steppit ahin';
The bonny sea-maidens cam gambolin oot,
    Kaimin their hair to the win'.

O merry their lauch whan they fan the warm san',
    For the lichtsome reel sae meet!
Ilk are flang her kaim...

George MacDonald

Nannie Braw

I like ye weel upo Sundays, Nannie,
    I' yer goon and yer ribbons and a';
But I like ye better on Mondays, Nannie,
    Whan ye're no sae buskit and braw.

For whan we're sittin sae douce, Nannie,
    Wi' the lave o' the worshippin fowk,
That aneth the haly hoose, Nannie,
    Ye micht hear a moudiwarp howk,

It will come into my heid, Nannie,
    O' yer braws ye are thinkin a wee;
No alane o' the Bible-seed, Nannie,
    Nor the minister nor me!

Syne hame athort the green, Nannie,
    Ye gang wi' a toss o' yer chin;
And there walks a shadow atween 's, Nannie,
    A dark ane though it be thin!

But noo, whan I see ye gang, Nannie,
    Eident at what's to be dune,
Liltin a haiveless sang, Nannie,
    I wud kiss yer verr...

George MacDonald