The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes - Volume 2 by George MacDonald (best large ebook reader txt) 📕

but thousands of toes; My one foot stands well, but never goes; I've a good many arms, if you count them all, But hundreds of fingers, large and small; From the ends of my fingers my beauty grows; I breathe with my hair, and I drink with my toes; I grow bigger and bigger about the waist Although I am always very tight laced; None e'er saw me eat-I've no mouth to bite! Yet I eat all day, and digest all night. In the summer, with song I shake and quiver, But in winter I fast and groan and shiver.

II.

There is a plough that hath no share, Only a coulter that parteth fair;
But the ridges they rise
To a terrible size Or ever the coulter comes near to tear: The horses and ridges fierce battle make; The horses are safe, but the plough may break.

Seed cast in its furrows, or green or sear, Will lift to the sun neither blade nor ear:
Down it drops plumb
Where no spring-times come, Nor needeth it any harrowing gear; Wheat nor poppy nor blade has been found Able to grow on the naked ground.

FOR MY GRANDCHILD.

III.

Who is it that sleeps like a top all night, And wakes in the morning so fresh and bright That he breaks his bed as he gets up, And leaves it smashed like a china cup?

IV.

I've a very long nose, but what of that? It is not too long to lie on a mat!

I have very big jaws, but never get fat: I don't go to church, and I'm not a church rat!

I've a mouth in my middle my food goes in at, Just like a skate's-that's a fish that's a flat.

In summer I'm seldom able to breathe, But when winter his blades in ice doth sheathe

I swell my one lung, I look big and I puff, And I sometimes hiss.-There, that's enough!


BABY.

Where did you come from, baby dear? Out of the everywhere into here.

Where did you get those eyes so blue? Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin? Some of the starry twinkles left in.

Where did you get that little tear? I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high? A soft hand stroked it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose? I saw something better than any one knows.

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss? Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear? God spoke, and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands? Love made itself into bonds and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things? From the same box as the cherubs' wings.

How did they all just come to be you? God thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear? God thought about you, and so I am here.


UP AND-DOWN.

The sun is gone down
And the moon's in the sky But the sun will come up
And the moon be laid by.

The flower is asleep.
But it is not dead, When the morning shines
It will lift its head.

When winter comes
It will die! No, no, It will only hide
From the frost and snow.

Sure is the summer,
Sure is the sun; The night and the winter
Away they run.


UP IN THE TREE .

What would you see, if I took you up My little aerie-stair? You would see the sky like a clear blue cup Turned upside down in the air.

What would you do, up my aerie-stair In my little nest on the tree? With cry upon cry you would ripple the air To get at what you would see.

And what would you reach in the top of the tree To still your grasping grief? Not a star would you clutch of all you would see, You would gather just one green leaf.

But when you had lost your greedy grief, Content to see from afar, Your hand it would hold a withering leaf, But your heart a shining star.


A BABY-SERMON .

The lightning and thunder They go and they come: But the stars and the stillness Are always at home.


LITTLE BO-PEEP .

Little Bo-Peep, she has lost her sheep,
And will not know where to find them; They are over the height and out of sight,
Trailing their tails behind them!

Little Bo-Peep woke out of her sleep,
Jump'd up and set out to find them: "The silly things! they've got no wings,
And they've left their trails behind them!

"They've taken their tails, but they've left their trails,
And so I shall follow and find them!" For wherever a tail had dragged a trail
The grass lay bent behind them.

She washed in the brook, and caught up her crook.
And after her sheep did run Along the trail that went up the dale
Across the grass in the sun.

She ran with a will, and she came to a hill
That went up steep like a spire; On its very top the sun seemed to stop,
And burned like a flame of fire.

But now she went slow, for the hill did go
Up steeper as she went higher; When she reached its crown, the sun was down,
Leaving a trail of fire.

And her sheep were gone, and hope she had none.
For now was no trail behind them. Yes, there they were! long-tailed and fair!
But to see was not to find them!

Golden in hue, and rosy and blue,
And white as blossom of pears, Her sheep they did run in the trail of the sun,
As she had been running in theirs!

After the sun like clouds they did run,
But she knew they were her sheep: She sat down to cry and look up at the sky,
But she cried herself to sleep.

And as she slept the dew down wept,
And the wind did blow from the sky; And doings strange brought a lovely change:
She woke with a different cry!

Nibble, nibble, crop, without a stop!
A hundred little lambs Did pluck and eat the grass so sweet
That grew in the trail of their dams!

She gave one look, she caught up her crook,
Wiped away the sleep that did blind her; And nibble-nibble-crop, without a stop
The lambs came nibbling behind her.

Home, home she came, both tired and lame,
With three times as large a stock; In a month or more, they'll be sheep as before,
A lovely, long-wooled flock!

But what will she say, if, one fine day,
When they've got their bushiest tails, Their grown-up game should be just the same,
And again she must follow mere trails?

Never weep, Bo-Peep, though you lose your sheep,
Tears will turn rainbow-laughter! In the trail of the sun if the mothers did run,
The lambs are sure to run after;

But a day is coming when little feet drumming
Will wake you up to find them- All the old sheep-how your heart will leap!-
With their big little lambs behind them!


LITTLE BOY BLUE.

Little Boy Blue lost his way in a wood-
Sing apples and cherries, roses and honey: He said, "I would not go back if I could,
It's all so jolly and funny!"

He sang, "This wood is all my own-
Apples and cherries, roses and honey! Here I will sit, a king on my throne,
All so jolly and funny!"

A little snake crept out of a tree-
Apples and cherries, roses and honey: "Lie down at my feet, little snake," said he-
All so jolly and funny!

A little bird sang in the tree overhead-
"Apples and cherries, roses and honey:" "Come and sing your song on my finger," he said,
All so jolly and funny.

Up coiled the snake; the bird came down, And sang him the song of Birdie Brown.

But little Boy Blue found it tiresome to sit Though it was on a throne: he would walk a bit!

He took up his horn, and he blew a blast: "Snake, you go first, and, birdie, come last."

Waves of green snake o'er the yellow leaves went; The snake led the way, and he knew what he meant:

But by Boy Blue's head, with flutter and dart, Flew Birdie Brown, her song in her heart.

Boy Blue came where apples grew fair and sweet: "Tree, drop me an apple down at my feet."

He came where cherries hung plump and red: "Come to my mouth, sweet kisses," he said.

And the boughs bow down, and the apples they dapple The grass, too many for him to grapple;

And the cheeriest cherries, with never a miss, Fall to his mouth, each a full-grown kiss.

He met a little brook singing a song: "Little brook," he said, "you are going wrong,

"You must follow me, follow me, follow, I say, Do as I tell you, and come this way."

And the song-singing, sing-songing forest brook Leapt from its bed and after him took;

And the dead leaves rustled, yellow and wan, As over their beds the water ran.

He called every bird that sat on a bough; He called every creature with poop and prow-

I mean, with two ends, that is, nose and tail: With legs or without, they followed full sail;

Squirrels that carried their tails like a sack, Each his own on his little brown humpy back;

Snails that drew their own caravans, Poking out their own eyes on the point of a lance,

And houseless slugs, white, black, and red- Snails too lazy to build a shed;

And butterflies, flutterbys, weasels, and larks, And owls, and shrew-mice, and harkydarks,

Cockchafers, henchafers, cockioli-birds, Cockroaches, henroaches, cuckoos in herds;

The dappled fawns fawning, the fallow-deer following; The swallows and flies, flying and swallowing-

All went flitting, and sailing, and flowing After the merry boy running and blowing.

The spider forgot, and followed him spinning, And lost all his thread from end to beginning;

The gay wasp forgot his rings and his waist- He never had made such undignified haste!

The dragon-flies melted to mist with their hurrying; The mole forsook his harrowing and burrowing;

The bees went buzzing, not busy but beesy, And the midges in columns, upright and easy.

But Little Boy Blue was not content, Calling for followers still as he went,

Blowing his horn, and beating his drum, And crying aloud, "Come all of you, come!"