Written On A Stormy Night.

O wild and dark! a night hath found me now
Wherein I mingle with that element
Sent madly loose through the wide staring rent
In yon tormented branches! I will bow
A while unto the storm, and thenceforth grow
Into a mighty patience strongly bent
Before the unconquering Power which hither sent
These winds to fight their battles on my brow!--
Again the loud boughs thunder! and the din
Licks up my footfall from the hissing earth!
But I have found a mighty peace within,
And I have risen into a home of mirth!
Wildly I climb above the shaking spires,
Above the sobbing clouds, up through the steady fires!

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. - Expectation And Fulfilment. (From Schiller.)

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Love Is Home

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

The Tree's Prayer

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

To ----

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.

When The Storm Was Proudest

    When the storm was proudest,
    And the wind was loudest,
I heard the hollow caverns drinking down below;
    When the stars were bright,
    And the ground was white,
I heard the grasses springing underneath the snow.

    Many voices spake--
    The river to the lake,
And the iron-ribbed sky was talking to the sea;
    And every starry spark
    Made music with the dark,
And said how bright and beautiful everything must be.

    When the sun was setting,
    All the clouds were getting
Beautiful and silvery in the rising moon;
    Beneath the leafless trees
    Wrangling in the breeze,
I could hardly see them for the leaves of June.

    When the day had ended,
    And the night descended,
I heard the sound of streams ...

George MacDonald

Sunday

DECEMBER 28, 1879.

A dim, vague shrinking haunts my soul,
    My spirit bodeth ill--
As some far-off restraining bank
Had burst, and waters, many a rank,
    Were marching on my hill;

As if I had no fire within
    For thoughts to sit about;
As if I had no flax to spin,
No lamp to lure the good things in
    And keep the bad things out.

The wind, south-west, raves in the pines
    That guard my cottage round;
The sea-waves fall in stormy lines
Below the sandy cliffs and chines,
    And swell the roaring sound.

The misty air, the bellowing wind
    Not often trouble me;
The storm that's outside of the mind
Doth oftener wake my heart to find
    More peace and liberty.

Why is not such my fate to-night?
...

George MacDonald

Sharing

On the far horizon there
Heaps of cloudy darkness rest;
Though the wind is in the air
There is stupor east and west.

For the sky no change is making,
Scarce we know it from the plain;
Droop its eyelids never waking,
Blinded by the misty rain;

Save on high one little spot,
Round the baffled moon a space
Where the tumult ceaseth not:
Wildly goes the midnight race!

And a joy doth rise in me
Upward gazing on the sight,
When I think that others see
In yon clouds a like delight;

How perchance an aged man
Struggling with the wind and rain,
In the moonlight cold and wan
Feels his heart grow young again;

As the cloudy rack goes by,
How the life-blood mantles up
Till the fountain deep and dry
Yields once m...

George MacDonald

The Journey.

I.

Hark, the rain is on my roof!
Every murmur, through the dark,
Stings me with a dull reproof
Like a half-extinguished spark.
Me! ah me! how came I here,
Wide awake and wide alone!
Caught within a net of fear,
All my dreams undreamed and gone!

I will rise; I will go forth.
Better dare the hideous night,
Better face the freezing north
Than be still, where is no light!
Black wind rushing round me now,
Sown with arrowy points of rain!
Gone are there and then and now--
I am here, and so is pain!

Dead in dreams the gloomy street!
I will out on open roads.
Eager grow my aimless feet--
Onward, onward something goads!
I will take the mountain path,
Beard the storm within its den;
Know the worst of this dim wrath

George MacDonald

The Souls' Rising.

    See how the storm of life ascends
Up through the shadow of the world!
Beyond our gaze the line extends,
Like wreaths of vapour tempest-hurled!
Grasp tighter, brother, lest the storm
Should sweep us down from where we stand,
And we may catch some human form
We know, amongst the straining band.

    See! see in yonder misty cloud
One whirlwind sweep, and we shall hear
The voice that waxes yet more loud
And louder still approaching near!

    Tremble not, brother, fear not thou,
For yonder wild and mystic strain
Will bring before us strangely now
The visions of our youth again!

    Listen! oh listen!
See how its eyeballs roll and glisten
With a wild and fearful stare
Upwards through the shining air,
Or backwards with averte...

George MacDonald

Sudden Calm

There is a bellowing in me, as of might
Unfleshed and visionless, mangling the air
With horrible convulse, as if it bare
The cruel weight of worlds, but could not fight
With the thick-dropping clods, and could but bite
A vapour-cloud! Oh, I will climb the stair
Of the great universe, and lay me there
Even at the threshold of his gate, despite
The tempest, and the weakness, and the rush
Of this quick crowding on me!--Oh, I dream!
Now I am sailing swiftly, as we seem
To do in sleep! and I can hear the gush
Of a melodious wave that carries me
On, on for ever to eternity!

George MacDonald