The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume Ii Part 58

Said the Wind, "What a marvel of power am I!

With my breath, In good faith, I blew her to death!-- First blew her away right out of the sky, Then blew her in: what a strength am I!"

But the Moon she knew nought of the silly affair; For, high In the sky With her one white eye, Motionless miles above the air, She never had heard the great Wind blare.

_THE FOOLISH HAREBELL_.

A harebell hung her wilful head: "I am tired, so tired! I wish I was dead."

She hung her head in the mossy dell: "If all were over, then all were well!"

The Wind he heard, and was pitiful, And waved her about to make her cool.

"Wind, you are rough!" said the dainty Bell; "Leave me alone--I am not well."

The Wind, at the word of the drooping dame, Sighed to himself and ceased in shame.

"I am hot, so hot!" she moaned and said; "I am withering up; I wish I was dead!"

Then the Sun he pitied her woeful case, And drew a thick veil over his face.

"Cloud go away, and don't be rude,"

She said; "I do not see why you should!"

The Cloud withdrew. Then the Harebell cried, "I am faint, so faint!--and no water beside!"

The Dew came down its millionfold path: She murmured, "I did not want a bath!"

The Dew went up; the Wind softly crept; The Night came down, and the Harebell slept.

A boy ran past in the morning gray, Plucked the Harebell, and threw her away.

The Harebell s.h.i.+vered, and sighed, "Oh! oh!

I am faint indeed! Come, dear Wind, blow."

The Wind blew gently, and did not speak.

She thanked him kindly, but grew more weak.

"Sun, dear Sun, I am cold!" she said.

He shone; but lower she drooped her head.

"O Rain, I am withering! all the blue Is fading out of me!--come, please do!"

The Rain came down as fast as he could, But for all his good will he could do her no good.

She shuddered and shrivelled, and moaning said, "Thank you all kindly!" and then she was dead.

Let us hope, let us hope when she comes next year She'll be simple and sweet! But I fear, I fear!

_SONG_.

I was very cold In the summer weather; The sun shone all his gold, But I was very cold-- Alas, we were grown old, Love and I together!

Oh, but I was cold In the summer weather!

Sudden I grew warmer Though the brooks were frozen: "Truly, scorn did harm her!"

I said, and I grew warmer; "Better men the charmer Knows at least a dozen!"

I said, and I grew warmer Though the brooks were frozen.

Spring sits on her nest, Daisies and white clover; And my heart at rest Lies in the spring's young nest: My love she loves me best, And the frost is over!

Spring sits on her nest, Daisies and white clover!

_AN IMPROVISATION_.

The stars cleave the sky.

Yet for us they rest, And their race-course high Is a s.h.i.+ning nest!

The hours hurry on.

But where is thy flight, Soft pavilion Of motionless night?

Earth gives up her trees To the holy air; They live in the breeze; They are saints at prayer!

Summer night, come from G.o.d, On your beauty, I see, A still wave has flowed Of eternity!

_EQUITY_.

No bird can sing in tune but that the Lord Sits throned in equity above the heaven, And holds the righteous balance always even; No heart can true response to love afford Wherein from one to eight not every chord Is yet attuned by the spirits seven: For tuneful no bird sings but that the Lord Is throned in equity above high heaven.

Oh heart, by wrong unfilial scathed and scored, And from thy humble throne with mazedness driven, Take courage: when thy wrongs thou hast forgiven, Thy rights in love thy G.o.d will see restored: No bird could sing in tune but that the Lord Sits throned in equity above the heaven.

_CONTRITION_.

Out of the gulf into the glory, Father, my soul cries out to be lifted.

Dark is the woof of my dismal story, Thorough thy sun-warp stormily drifted!-- Out of the gulf into the glory, Lift me, and save my story.

I have done many things merely shameful; I am a man ashamed, my father!

My life is ashamed and broken and blameful-- The broken and blameful, oh, cleanse and gather!

Heartily shame me, Lord, of the shameful!

To my judge I flee with my blameful.