Washing The Clothes.

This is the way we wash the clo'es
    Free from dirt and smoke and clay!
Through and through the water flows,
    Carries Ugly right away!

This is the way we bleach the clo'es:
    Lay them out upon the green;
Through and through the sunshine goes,
    Makes them white as well as clean!

This is the way we dry the clo'es:
    Hang them on the bushes about;
Through and through the soft wind blows,
    Draws and drives the wetness out!

Water, sun, and windy air
    Make the clothes clean, white, and sweet
Lay them now in lavender
    For the Sunday, folded neat!

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

Said And Did

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Mother Nature.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Song Of The Innocents

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

A Prisoner

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.

Cleaning The Windows.

Wash the window; rub it dry;
    Make the ray-door clean and bright:
He who lords it in the sky
    Loves on cottage floors to light!

Looking over sea and beck,
    Mountain-forest, orchard-bloom,
He can spy the smallest speck
    Anywhere about the room!

See how bright his torch is blazing
    In the heart of mother's store!
Strange! I never saw him gazing
    So into that press before!

Ah, I see!--the wooden pane
    In the window, dull and dead,
Father called its loss a gain,
    And a glass one put instead!

What a difference it makes!
    How it melts the filmy gloom!
What a little more it takes
    Much to brighten up a room!

There I spy a dusty streak!
    There a corner not quite clean!
There a...

George MacDonald

Sweeping The Floor.

Sweep and sweep and sweep the floor,
    Sweep the dust, pick up the pin;
Make it clean from fire to door,
    Clean for father to come in!

Mother said that God goes sweeping,
    Looking, sweeping with a broom,
All the time that we are sleeping,
    For a shilling in the room:

Did he drop it out of glory,
    Walking far above the birds?
Or did parson make the story
    For the thinking afterwards?

If I were the swept-for shilling
    I would hearken through the gloom;
Roll out fast, and fall down willing
    Right before the sweeping broom!

George MacDonald

The Dolls' Wash.

Sally is the laundress, and every Saturday
She sends our clean clothes up from the wash, and Nurse puts them away.
Sometimes Sally is very kind, but sometimes she's as cross as a Turk;
When she's good-humoured we like to go and watch her at work.
She has tubs and a copper in the wash-house, and a great big fire and plenty of soap;
And outside is the drying-ground with tall posts, and pegs bought from the gipsies, and long lines of rope.
The laundry is indoors with another big fire, and long tables, and a lot of irons, and a crimping-machine;
And horses (not live ones with tails, but clothes-horses) and the same starch that is used by the Queen.
Sally wears pattens in the wash-house, and turns up her sleeves, and splashes, and rubs,
And makes beautiful white lather which foams over the tops of t...

Juliana Horatia Ewing

A Song From The Suds

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,
    While the white foam rises high,
    And sturdily wash and rinse and wring,
    And fasten the clothes to dry.
    Then out in the free fresh air they swing,
    Under the sunny sky.

    I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls
    The stains of the week away,
    And let water and air by their magic make
    Ourselves as pure as they.
    Then on the earth there would be indeed,
    A glorious washing day!

    Along the path of a useful life,
    Will heartsease ever bloom.
    The busy mind has no time to think
    Of sorrow or care or gloom.
    And anxious thoughts may be swept away,
    As we bravely wield a broom.

    I am glad a task to me is given,
    To labor at day by day,

Louisa May Alcott

No End Of No-Story

There is a river
whose waters run asleep
run run ever
singing in the shallows
dumb in the hollows
sleeping so deep
and all the swallows
that dip their feathers
in the hollows
or in the shallows
are the merriest swallows
and the nests they make
with the clay they cake
with the water they shake
from their wings that rake
the water out of the shallows
or out of the hollows
will hold together
in any weather
and the swallows
are the merriest fellows
and have the merriest children
and are built very narrow
like the head of an arrow
to cut the air
and go just where
the nicest water is flowing
and the nicest dust is blowing
and each so narrow
like the head of an arrow
is a wonderful barrow
to c...

George MacDonald

Going To Sleep

    Little one, you must not fret
    That I take your clothes away;
    Better sleep you so will get,
    And at morning wake more gay--
        Saith the children's mother.

    You I must unclothe again,
    For you need a better dress;
    Too much worn are body and brain;
    You need everlastingness--
        Saith the heavenly father.

    I went down death's lonely stair;
    Laid my garments in the tomb;
    Dressed again one morning fair;
    Hastened up, and hied me home--
        Saith the elder brother.

    Then I will not be afraid
    Any ill can come to me;
    When 'tis time to go to bed,
    I will rise and go with thee--
        Saith the little brother.

George MacDonald