The Poetry Of George MacDonald - Volume 1: "Attitudes are more important than facts."

By George Macdonald

George MacDonald was born on December 10th 1824 at Huntly, Aberdeenshire, Scotland where he grew up with the Congregational Church, with its atmosphere of Calvinism to which George never really attached himself. His mother when he was only 8 and by 16 George was successful in obtaining a bursary to King’s College in Aberdeen and from which he also received his M.A. In 1846 George had his first poem published anonymously. By 1848 he was attending Highbury Theological College to study for the Congregational ministry and also engaged to Louisa Powell. By 1850 George was appointed as the pastor of Trinity Congregational Church in Arundel. Later that year he suffered his first severe haemorrhage in what was to become a lifelong battle with declining health. In his ministry his sermons were at odds with the Church and their more segmented views. Three years later he resigned from the pulpit. His collection of poems ‘Within and Without’ was published in 1855 and in 1858 so too was ‘Phantastes’. His career would now flourish and along with very successful lecture tours were published such classics as ‘At the Back of the North Wind’, ‘Wilfrid Cumbermede’, ‘The Princess and the Goblin’ and ‘Exotics’. From 1880 he and his family moved to Bordighera on the Riviera dei Fiori in Liguria, Italy, where he spent 20 years writing. But ill health continued to strike at him. By 1898 a stroke had taken his voice. In 1901 George and Louisa were able to celebrate their Golden Wedding anniversary though sadly Louisa was to pass away on January 13th, 1902 whilst at Bordighera. On 18th September 1905 George MacDonald died at Sagamore, Ashtead in Surrey. He was cremated and his ashes buried at Bordighera, in the English cemetery, along with his wife Louisa and daughters Lilia and Grace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Copyright Group
• Release date: Dec 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781785430374

Book preview

The Poetry Of George MacDonald

Volume 1

George MacDonald was born on December 10th 1824 at Huntly, Aberdeenshire, Scotland where he grew up with the Congregational Church, with its atmosphere of Calvinism to which George never really attached himself.

His mother died when he was only 8 and by 16 George was successful in obtaining a bursary to King’s College in Aberdeen and from which he also received his M.A.

In 1846 George had his first poem published anonymously.  By 1848 he was attending Highbury Theological College to study for the Congregational ministry and also engaged to Louisa Powell.

By 1850 George was appointed as the pastor of Trinity Congregational Church in Arundel.  Later that year he suffered his first severe haemorrhage in what was to become a lifelong battle with declining health. In his ministry his sermons were at odds with the Church and their more segmented views. Three years later he resigned from the pulpit.

His collection of poems ‘Within and Without’ was published in 1855 and in 1858 so too was ‘Phantastes’.  His career would now flourish and along with very successful lecture tours were published such classics as ‘At the Back of the North Wind’, ‘Wilfrid Cumbermede’, ‘The Princess and the Goblin’ and ‘Exotics’.

From 1880 he and his family moved to Bordighera on the Riviera dei Fiori in Liguria, Italy, where he spent 20 years writing.

But ill health continued to strike at him. By 1898 a stroke had taken his voice.

In 1901 George and Louisa were able to celebrate their Golden Wedding anniversary though sadly Louisa was to pass away on January 13th, 1902 whilst at Bordighera.

On 18th September 1905 George MacDonald died at Sagamore, Ashtead in Surrey. He was cremated and his ashes buried at Bordighera, in the English cemetery, along with his wife Louisa and daughters Lilia and Grace.

EARLY POEMS

LONGING

MY EYES MAKE PICTURES

DEATH

LESSONS FOR A CHILD

HOPE DEFERRED

THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR

A SONG IN A DREAM

A THANKSGIVING

THE GOSPEL WOMEN

THE MOTHER MARY

THE WOMAN THAT CRIED IN THE CROWD

THE MOTHER OF ZEBEDEE'S CHILDREN

THE SYROPHENICIAN WOMAN

THE WIDOW OF NAIN

THE WOMAN WHOM SATAN HAD BOUND

THE WOMAN WHO CAME BEHIND HIM IN THE CROWD

THE WIDOW WITH THE TWO MITES

THE WOMEN WHO MINISTERED UNTO HIM

PILATE'S WIFE

THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA

MART MAGDALENE

THE WOMAN IN THE TEMPLE

MARTHA

MARY

THE WOMAN THAT WAS A SINNER

OTHER POEMS

A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM

AFTER AN OLD LEGEND

THE TREE'S PRAYER

A STORY OF THE SEA SHORE

MY HEART

O DO NOT LEAVE ME

THE HOLY SNOWDROPS

TO MY SISTER

O THOU OF LITTLE FAITH

LONGING

A BOY'S GRIEF

THE CHILD-MOTHER

LOVE'S ORDEAL

A PRAYER FOR THE PAST

FAR AND NEAR

MY ROOM

SYMPATHY

LITTLE ELFIE

THE THANK OFFERING

THE BURNT OFFERING

FOUR SONNETS

SONNET

EIGHTEEN SONNETS

DEATH AND BIRTH

GEORGE MacDONALD – A SHORT BIOGRAPHY

GEORGE MacDONALD – AN OBITUARY

GEORGE MacDONALD – A CONCISE BIBLIOGRAPHY

EARLY POEMS

LONGING

Away from the city's herds!

Away from the noisy street!

Away from the storm of words,

Where hateful and hating meet!

Away from the vapour grey,

That like a boding of ill

Is blotting the morning gay,

And gathers and darkens still!

Away from the stupid book!

For, like the fog's weary rest,

With anger dull it fills each nook

Of my aching and misty breast.

Over some shining shore,

There hangeth a space of blue;

A parting 'mid thin clouds hoar

Where the sunlight is falling through.

The glad waves are kissing the shore

Rejoice, and tell it for ever;

The boat glides on, while its oar

Is flashing out of the river.

Oh to be there with thee!

Thou and I only, my love!

The sparkling, sands and the sea!

And the sunshine of God above!

MY EYES MAKE PICTURES.

My eyes make pictures, when they are shut.

COLERIDGE.

Fair morn, I bring my greeting

To lofty skies, and pale,

Save where cloud-shreds are fleeting

Before the driving gale,

The weary branches tossing,

Careless of autumn's grief,

Shadow and sunlight crossing

On each earth-spotted leaf.

I will escape their grieving;

And so I close my eyes,

And see the light boat heaving

Where the billows fall and rise;

I see the sunlight glancing

Upon its silvery sail,

Where a youth's wild heart is dancing,

And a maiden growing pale.

And I am quietly pacing

The smooth stones o'er and o'er,

Where the merry waves are chasing

Each other to the shore.

Words come to me while listening

Where the rocks and waters meet,

And the little shells are glistening

In sand-pools at my feet.

Away! the white sail gleaming!

Again I close my eyes,

And the autumn light is streaming

From pale blue cloudless skies;

Upon the lone hill falling

'Mid the sound of heather-bells,

Where the running stream is calling

Unto the silent wells.

Along the pathway lonely,

My horse and I move slow;

No living thing, save only

The home-returning crow.

And the moon, so large, is peering

Up through the white cloud foam;

And I am gladly nearing

My father's house, my home.

As I were gently dreaming

The solemn trees look out;

The hills, the waters seeming

In still sleep round about;

And in my soul are ringing

Tones of a spirit-lyre,

As my beloved were singing

Amid a sister-choir.

If peace were in my spirit,

How oft I'd close my eyes,

And all the earth inherit,

And all the changeful skies!

Thus leave the sermon dreary,

Thus leave the lonely hearth;

No more a spirit weary

A free one of the earth!

DEATH

When, like a garment flung aside at night,

This body lies, or sculpture of cold rest;

When through its shaded windows comes no light,

And the white hands are folded on its breast;

How will it be with Me, its tenant now?

How shall I feel when first I wander out?

How look on tears from loved eyes falling? How

Look forth upon dim mysteries round about?

Shall I go forth, slow-floating like a mist,

Over the city with its crowded walls?

Over the trees and meadows where I list?

Over the mountains and their ceaseless falls?

Over the red cliffs and fantastic rocks;

Over the sea, far-down, fleeting away;

White sea-birds shining, and the billowy shocks

Heaving unheard their shore-besieging spray?

Or will a veil, o'er all material things

Slow-falling; hide them from the spirit's sight;

Even as the veil which the sun's radiance flings

O'er stars that had been shining all the night?

And will the spirit be entranced, alone,

Like one in an exalted opium-dream

Time space, and all their varied dwellers gone;

And sunlight vanished, and all things that seem;

Thought only waking; thought that doth not own

The lapse of ages, or the change of place;

Thought, in which only that which is, is known;

The substance here, the form confined to space?

Or as a child that sobs itself to sleep,

Wearied with labour which the grown call play,

Waking in smiles as soon as morn doth peep,

Springs up to labour all the joyous day,

Shall we lie down, weary; and sleep, until

Our souls be cleansed by long and dreamless rest;

Till of repose we drink our thirsting fill,

And wake all peaceful, smiling, pure, and blest?

I know not, only know one needful thing:

God is; I shall be ever in His view;

I only need strength for the travailing,

Will for the work Thou givest me to do.

LESSONS FOR A CHILD.

I

There breathes not a breath of the morning air,

But the spirit of Love is moving there;

Not a trembling leaf on the shadowy tree

Mingles with thousands in harmony;

But the Spirit of God doth make the sound,

And the thoughts of the insect that creepeth around.

And the sunshiny butterflies come and go,

Like beautiful thoughts moving to and fro;

And not a wave of their busy wings

Is unknown to the Spirit that moveth all things.

And the long-mantled moths, that sleep at noon,

And dance in the light of the mystic moon

All have one being that loves them all;

Not a fly in the spider's web can fall,

But He cares for the spider, and cares for the fly;

And He cares for each little child's smile or sigh.

How it can be, I cannot know;

He is wiser than I; and it must be so.

II

The tree-roots met in the spongy ground,

Looking where water lay;

Because they met, they twined around,

Embraced, and went their way.

Drop dashed on drop, as the rain-shower fell,

Yet they strove not, but joined together;

And they rose from the earth a bright clear well,

Singing in sunny weather.

Sound met sound in the wavy air;

They kissed as sisters true;

Yet, jostling not on their journey fair,

Each on its own path flew.

Wind met wind in a garden green;

Each for its own way pled;

And a trampling whirlwind danced between,

Till the flower of Love lay dead.

III

To C.C.P.

The bird on the leafy tree,

The bird in the cloudy sky,

The fish in the wavy sea,

The stag on the mountain high,

The albatross asleep

On the waves of the rocking deep,

The bee on its light wing, borne

Over the bending corn,

What is the thought in the breast

Of the little bird at rest?

What is the thought in the songs

Which the lark in the sky prolongs?

What mean the dolphin's rays,

Winding his watery ways?

What is the thought of the stag,

Stately on yonder crag?

What doth the albatross think,

Dreaming upon the brink

Of the mountain billow, and then

Dreaming down in its glen?

What is the thought of the bee

Fleeting so silently,

Flitting from part to part,

Speedily, gently roving,

Like the love of a thoughtful heart,

Ever at rest, and moving?

What is the life of their thought?

Doth praise their souls employ?

I think it can be nought

But the trembling movement to and fro

Of a bright, life-giving joy.

And the God of cloudless days,

Who souls and hearts doth know,

Taketh their joy for praise,

And biddeth its fountains flow.

And if, in thy life on earth,

In the chamber, or by the hearth,

Mid the crowded city's tide,

Or high on the lone hill-side,

Thou canst cause a thought of peace,

Or an aching thought to cease,

Or a gleam of joy to burst

On a soul in gladness nurst;

Spare not thy hand, my child;

Though the gladdened should never know

The well-spring amid the wild

Whence the waters of blessing flow.

Find thy