To One Unsatisfied

When, with all the loved around thee,
    Still thy heart says, "I am lonely,"
It is well; the truth hath found thee:
    Rest is with the Father only.

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

Translations. - Of Life At Court. (Luther's Song-Book.)

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Little Boy Blue.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Dejection

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Songs Of The Spring Nights

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.

0 Lord, How Happy!

From the German of Dessler.

O Lord, how happy is the time
    When in thy love I rest!
When from my weariness I climb
    Even to thy tender breast!
The night of sorrow endeth there--
    Thou art brighter than the sun;
And in thy pardon and thy care
    The heaven of heaven is won.

Let the world call herself my foe,
    Or let the world allure--
I care not for the world; I go
    To this dear friend and sure.
And when life's fiercest storms are sent
    Upon life's wildest sea,
My little bark is confident
    Because it holds by thee.

When the law threatens endless death
    Upon the dreadful hill,
Straightway from her consuming breath
    My soul goeth higher still--
Goeth to Jesus, wounded, slain,
    A...

George MacDonald

Dejection

O Father, I am in the dark,
    My soul is heavy-bowed:
I send my prayer up like a lark,
    Up through my vapoury shroud,
                To find thee,
                And remind thee
I am thy child, and thou my father,
Though round me death itself should gather.

Lay thy loved hand upon my head,
    Let thy heart beat in mine;
One thought from thee, when all seems dead,
    Will make the darkness shine
                About me
                And throughout me!
And should again the dull night gather,
I'll cry again, Thou art my father.

George MacDonald

Longing

    My heart is full of inarticulate pain,
        And beats laborious. Cold ungenial looks
    Invade my sanctuary. Men of gain,
        Wise in success, well-read in feeble books,
    No nigher come, I pray: your air is drear;
    'Tis winter and low skies when ye appear.

    Beloved, who love beauty and fair truth,
        Come nearer me; too near ye cannot come;
    Make me an atmosphere with your sweet youth;
        Give me your souls to breathe in, a large room;
    Speak not a word, for, see, my spirit lies
    Helpless and dumb; shine on me with your eyes.

    O all wide places, far from feverous towns;
        Great shining seas; pine forests; mountains wild;
    Rock-bosomed shores; rough heaths, and sheep-cropt downs;
        Vast pallid clo...

George MacDonald

This World

    Thy world is made to fit thine own,
    A nursery for thy children small,
    The playground-footstool of thy throne,
    Thy solemn school-room, Father of all!
    When day is done, in twilight's gloom,
    We pass into thy presence-room.

    Because from selfishness and wrath,
    Our cold and hot extremes of ill,
    We grope and stagger on the path--
    Thou tell'st us from thy holy hill,
    With icy storms and sunshine rude,
    That we are all unripe in good.

    Because of snaky things that creep
    Through our soul's sea, dim-undulant,
    Thou fill'st the mystery of thy deep
    With faces heartless, grim, and gaunt;
    That we may know how ugly seem
    The things our spirit-oceans teem.

    Because of half-way thi...

George MacDonald

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

Life-Weary

O Thou that walkest with nigh hopeless feet
Past the one harbour, built for thee and thine.
Doth no stray odour from its table greet,
No truant beam from fire or candle shine?

At his wide door the host doth stand and call;
At every lattice gracious forms invite;
Thou seest but a dull-gray, solid wall
In forest sullen with the things of night!

Thou cravest rest, and Rest for thee doth crave,
The white sheet folded down, white robe apart.--
Shame, Faithless! No, I do not mean the grave!
I mean Love's very house and hearth and heart.

George MacDonald