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Prayer (we Doubt The Word That Tells Us: Ask) Prayer (we Doubt The Word That Tells Us: Ask)

Prayer (we Doubt The Word That Tells Us: Ask)
We doubt the word that tells us: Ask, And ye shall have your prayer;We turn our thoughts as to a task, With will constrained and rare.And yet we have; these scanty prayers Yield gold without alloy:O God! but he that trusts and dares Must have a boundless joy.(The end)George MacDonald's poem: Prayer... Poems - Post by : susan - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 1504

The Journey The Journey

The Journey
Hark, the rain is on my roof!Every sound drops through the darkOn my soul with dull reproof,Like a half-extinguished spark.I! alas, how am I here,In the midnight and alone?Caught within a net of fear!All my dreams of beauty gone!I will rise: I must go forth.Better face the hideous night,Better dare the unseen north,Than be still without the light!Black wind rushing round my brow,Sown with stinging points of rain!Place or time I know not now--I am here, and so is pain!I will leave the sleeping street,Hie me forth on darker roads.Ah! I cannot stay my feet,Onward, onward, something goads.I will take the... Poems - Post by : 24-7pcProfits - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 1024

Better Things Better Things

Better Things
Better to smell a violet,Than sip the careless wine;Better to list one music tone,Than watch the jewels' shine.Better to have the love of one,Than smiles like morning dew;Better to have a living seedThan flowers of every hue.Better to feel a love within,Than be lovely to the sight;Better a homely tendernessThan beauty's wild delight.Better to love than be beloved.Though lonely all the day;Better the fountain in the heart,Than the fountain by the way.Better a feeble love to God,Than for woman's love to pine;Better to have the making GodThan the woman made divine.Better be fed by mother's hand,Than eat alone at will;Better to... Poems - Post by : bosstee - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 3091

The Man Of Songs The Man Of Songs

The Man Of Songs
"Thou wanderest in the land of dreams, O man of many songs;To thee the actual only seems-- No realm to thee belongs.""Seest thou those mountains in the east, O man of ready aim?""'T is only vapours that thou seest, In mountain form and name.""Nay, nay, I know them all too well, Each ridge, and peak, and dome;In that cloud-land, in one high dell, Nesteth my little home."(The end)George MacDonald's poem: Man Of Songs... Poems - Post by : eheyoka - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 971

A Gift A Gift

A Gift
My gift would find thee fast asleep, And arise a dream in thee;A violet sky o'er the roll and sweep Of a purple and pallid sea;And a crescent moon from my sky should creep In the golden dream to thee.Thou shouldst lay thee down, and sadly list To the wail of our cold birth-time;And build thee a temple, glory-kissed, In the heart of the sunny clime;Its columns should rise in a music-mist, And its roofs in a spirit-rhyme.Its pillars the solemn hills should bind 'Neath arches of starry deeps;Its floor the earth all veined and lined; Its organ the ocean-sweeps;And, swung... Poems - Post by : strobes - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 3305

A Memorial Of Africa A Memorial Of Africa

A Memorial Of Africa
I.Upon a rock, high on a mountain side, Thousands of feet above the lake-sea's lip, A rock in which old waters' rise and dip,Plunge and recoil, and backward eddying tideHad, age-long, worn, while races lived and died, Involved channels the sea-weed's drip Followed the ebb; and now earth-grasses sipFresh dews from heaven by on earth they bide-- I sat and gazed southwards. A dry flowOf withering wind blew on my drooping strengthFrom o'er the awful desert's burning length. Behind me piled, away and upward goGreat sweeps of savage mountains--up, away,Where panthers roam, and snow gleams all the day.II.Ah, God! the... Poems - Post by : andrewtan94 - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 2452

Sonnet (to A.m.d.) Sonnet (to A.m.d.)

Sonnet (to A.m.d.)
Methinks I see thee, lying calm and low, Silent and dark within thy earthy bed; Thy mighty hands, in which I trusted, dead,Resting, with thy long arms, from work or blow;And the night-robe, around thy tall form, flow Down from the kingly face, and from the head, Save by its thick dark curls, uncovered--My brother, dear from childhood, lying so!Not often since thou went'st, I think of thee, (With inward cares and questionings oppressed); And yet, ere long, I seek thee in thy rest,And bring thee home my heart, as full, as free,As sure that thou wilt take me tenderly, As... Poems - Post by : CoachLarry - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 2486

To Aurelio Saffi To Aurelio Saffi

To Aurelio Saffi
_To God and man be simply true:Do as thou hast been wont to do:_Or, _Of the old more in the new:_Mean all the same when said to you.I love thee. Thou art calm and strong;Firm in the right, mild to the wrong;Thy heart, in every raging throng,A chamber shut for prayer and song.Defeat thou know'st not, canst not know;Only thy aims so lofty go,They need as long to root and growAs any mountain swathed in snow.Go on and prosper, holy friend.I, weak and ignorant, would lendA voice, thee, strong and wise, to sendProspering onward, without end.(The end)George MacDonald's poem: To Aurelio... Poems - Post by : jtmjr21218 - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 1345

A Book Of Dreams A Book Of Dreams

A Book Of Dreams
PART I.1.I lay and dreamed. The master came In his old woven dress;I stood in joy, and yet in shame, Oppressed with earthliness.He stretched his arms, and gently sought To clasp me to his soul;I shrunk away, because I thought He did not know the whole.I did not love him as I would, Embraces were not meet;I sank before him where he stood, And held and kissed his feet.Ten years have passed away since then, Oft hast thou come to me;The question scarce will rise again, Whether I care for thee.To every doubt, in thee my heart An answer hopes to... Poems - Post by : ECLDogStar - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 1861

An Old Story An Old Story

An Old Story
They were parted at last, although Each was tenderly dear;As asunder their eyes did go, When first alone and near.'Tis an old story this-- A trembling and a sigh,A gaze in the eyes, a kiss-- Why will it _not_ go by?(The end)George MacDonald's poem: Old Story... Poems - Post by : leywin - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 2623

Abu Midjan Abu Midjan

Abu Midjan
"It is only just To laud good wine: If I sit in the dust, So sits the vine."Abu Midjan sang, as he sat in chains,For the blood of the grape was the juice of his veins.The prophet had said, "O Faithful, drink not"--Abu Midjan drank till his heart was hot;Yea, he sang a song in praise of wine,And called it good names, a joy divine.And Saad assailed him with words of blame,And left him in irons, a fettered flame;But he sang of the wine as he sat in chains,For the blood of the grape ran fast in his veins. "I will... Poems - Post by : stevepennington - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 1130

The Homeless Ghost The Homeless Ghost

The Homeless Ghost
Still flowed the music, flowed the wine. The youth in silence went;Through naked streets, in cold moonshine, His homeward way he bent,Where, on the city's seaward line, His lattice seaward leant.He knew not why he left the throng, But that he could not rest;That something pained him in the song, And mocked him in the jest;And a cold moon-glitter lay along One lovely lady's breast.He sat him down with solemn book His sadness to beguile;A skull from off its bracket-nook Threw him a lipless smile;But its awful, laughter-mocking look, Was a passing moonbeam's wile.An hour he sat, and read in vain,... Poems - Post by : dereka - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 3201

A Hidden Life A Hidden Life

A Hidden Life
Proudly the youth, by manhood sudden crowned,Went walking by his horses to the plough,For the first time that morn. No soldier gayFeels at his side the throb of the gold hilt(Knowing the blue blade hides within its sheath,As lightning in the cloud) with more delight,When first he belts it on, than he that dayHeard still the clank of the plough-chains againstThe horses' harnessed sides, as to the fieldThey went to make it fruitful. O'er the hillThe sun looked down, baptizing him for toil.A farmer's son he was, and grandson too;Yea, his great-grandsire had possessed these fields.Tradition said they had been tilled... Poems - Post by : janderson - Date : January 2011 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 658

Golden Key Golden Key

Golden Key
There was a boy who used to sit in the twilight and listen to his great-aunt's stories.She told him that if he could reach the place where the end of the rainbow stands he would find there a golden key."And what is the key for?" the boy would ask. "What is it the key of? What will it open?""That nobody knows," his aunt would reply. "He has to find that out.""I suppose, being gold," the boy once said, thoughtfully, "that I could get a good deal of money for it if I sold it.""Better never find it than sell it," returned... Short Stories - Post by : rex470 - Date : September 2010 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 1416

The Giant's Heart The Giant's Heart

The Giant's Heart
There was once a giant who lived on the borders of Giantland where it touched on the country of common people.Everything in Giantland was so big that the common people saw only a mass of awful mountains and clouds; and no living man had ever come from it, as far as anybody knew, to tell what he had seen in it.Somewhere near these borders, on the other side, by the edge of a great forest, lived a labourer with his wife and a great many children. One day Tricksey-Wee, as they called her, teased her brother Buffy-Bob, till he could not... Short Stories - Post by : Stephania - Date : September 2010 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 2761

The Light Princess The Light Princess

The Light Princess
I. WHAT! NO CHILDREN?Once upon a time, so long ago that I have quite forgotten the date, there lived a king and queen who had no children.And the king said to himself, "All the queens of my acquaintance have children, some three, some seven, and some as many as twelve; and my queen has not one. I feel ill-used." So he made up his mind to be cross with his wife about it. But she bore it all like a good patient queen as she was. Then the king grew very cross indeed. But the queen pretended to take it all... Short Stories - Post by : brynjar - Date : September 2010 - Author : George Macdonald - Read : 952