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

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He said to the shadows, "Come after me;" And the shadows began to flicker and flee,

And away through the wood went flattering and fluttering, Shaking and quivering, quavering and muttering.

He said to the wind, "Come, follow; come, follow With whistle and pipe, with rustle and hollo;"

And the wind wound round at his desire, As if Boy had been the gold cock on the spire;

And the cock itself flew down from the church And left the farmers all in the lurch.

Everything, everything, all and sum, They run and they fly, they creep and they come;

The very trees they tugged at their roots, Only their feet were too fast in their boots-

After him leaning and straining and bending, As on through their boles the army kept wending,

Till out of the wood Boy burst on a lea, Shouting and calling, "Come after me,"

And then they rose with a leafy hiss And stood as if nothing had been amiss.

Little Boy Blue sat down on a stone, And the creatures came round him every one.

He said to the clouds, "I want you there!" And down they sank through the thin blue air.

He said to the sunset far in the west, "Come here; I want you; 'tis my behest!"

And the sunset came and stood up on the wold, And burned and glowed in purple and gold.

Then Little Boy Blue began to ponder: "What's to be done with them all, I wonder!"

He thought a while, then he said, quite low, "What to do with you all, I am sure I don't know!"

The clouds clodded down till dismal it grew; The snake sneaked close; round Birdie Brown flew;

The brook, like a cobra, rose on its tail, And the wind sank down with a what-will-you wail,

And all the creatures sat and stared; The mole opened the eyes that he hadn't, and glared;

And for rats and bats, and the world and his wife Little Boy Blue was afraid of his life.

Then Birdie Brown began to sing, And what he sang was the very thing:

"Little Boy Blue, you have brought us all hither: Pray, are we to sit and grow old together?"

"Go away; go away," said Little Boy Blue; "I'm sure I don't want you! get away-do."

"No, no; no, no; no, yes, and no, no," Sang Birdie Brown, "it mustn't be so!

"If we've come for no good, we can't go away. Give us reason for going, or here we stay!"

They covered the earth, they darkened the air, They hovered, they sat, with a countless stare.

"If I do not give them something to do, They will stare me up!" said Little Boy Blue.

"Oh dear! oh dear!" he began to cry, "They're an awful crew, and I feel so shy!"

All of a sudden he thought of a thing, And up he stood, and spoke like a king:

"You're the plague of my life! have done with your bother! Off with you all: take me back to my mother!"

The sunset went back to the gates of the west. "Follow me " sang Birdie, "I know the way best!"

"I am going the same way as fast as I can!" Said the brook, as it sank and turned and ran.

To the wood fled the shadows, like scared black ghosts: "If we stay, we shall all be missed from our posts!"

Said the wind, with a voice that had changed its cheer, "I was just going there when you brought me here!"

"That's where I live," said the sack-backed squirrel, And he turned his sack with a swing and a swirl.

Said the gold weather-cock, "I'm the churchwarden!" Said the mole, "I live in the parson's garden!"

Said they all, "If that's where you want us to steer for, What on earth or in air did you bring us here for?"

"You are none the worse!" said Boy. "If you won't Do as I tell you, why, then, don't;

"I'll leave you behind, and go home without you; And it's time I did: I begin to doubt you!"

He jumped to his feet. The snake rose on his tail, And hissed three times, a hiss full of bale,

And shot out his tongue at Boy Blue to scare him, And stared at him, out of his courage to stare him.

"You ugly snake," Little Boy Blue said, "Get out of my way, or I'll break your head!"

The snake would not move, but glared at him glum; Boy Blue hit him hard with the stick of his drum.

The snake fell down as if he was dead. Little Boy Blue set his foot on his head.

"Hurrah!" cried the creatures, "hurray! hurrah! Little Boy Blue, your will is a law!"

And away they went, marching before him, And marshalled him home with a high cockolorum.

And Birdie Brown sang, "Twirrr twitter, twirrr twee! In the rosiest rose-bush a rare nest! Twirrr twitter, twirrr twitter, twirrr twitter, twirrrrr tweeeee! In the fun he has found the earnest!"


WILLIE'S QUESTION .

I.

Willie speaks.

Is it wrong, the wish to be great,
For I do wish it so? I have asked already my sister Kate;
She says she does not know.

Yestereve at the gate I stood
Watching the sun in the west; When I saw him look so grand and good
It swelled up in my breast.

Next from the rising moon
It stole like a silver dart; In the night when the wind began his tune
It woke with a sudden start.

This morning a trumpet blast
Made all the cottage quake; It came so sudden and shook so fast
It blew me wide awake.

It told me I must make haste,
And some great glory win, For every day was running to waste,
And at once I must begin.

I want to be great and strong,
I want to begin to-day; But if you think it very wrong
I will send the wish away.

II.

The Father answers.

Wrong to wish to be great?
No, Willie; it is not wrong: The child who stands at the high closed gate
Must wish to be tall and strong!

If you did not wish to grow
I should be a sorry man; I should think my boy was dull and slow,
Nor worthy of his clan.

You are bound to be great, my boy:
Wish, and get up, and do. Were you content to be little, my joy
Would be little enough in you.

Willie speaks.

Papa, papa! I'm so glad
That what I wish is right! I will not lose a chance to be had;
I'll begin this very night.

I will work so hard at school!
I will waste no time in play; At my fingers' ends I'll have every rule,
For knowledge is power, they say.

I would be a king and reign,
But I can't be that, and so Field-marshal I'll be, I think, and gain
Sharp battles and sieges slow.

I shall gallop and shout and call,
Waving my shining sword: Artillery, cavalry, infantry, all
Hear and obey my word.

Or admiral I will be,
Wherever the salt wave runs, Sailing, fighting over the sea,
With flashing and roaring guns.

I will make myself hardy and strong;
I will never, never give in. I am so glad it is not wrong!
At once I will begin.

The Father speaks.

Fighting and shining along,
All for the show of the thing! Any puppet will mimic the grand and strong
If you pull the proper string!

Willie speaks.

But indeed I want to be great,
I should despise mere show; The thing I want is the glory-state-
Above the rest, you know!

The Father answers.

The harder you run that race,
The farther you tread that track, The greatness you fancy before your face
Is the farther behind your back.

To be up in the heavens afar,
Miles above all the rest, Would make a star not the greatest star,
Only the dreariest.

That book on the highest shelf
Is not the greatest book; If you would be great, it must be in yourself,
Neither by place nor look.

The Highest is not high
By being higher than others; To greatness you come not a step more nigh
By getting above your brothers.

III.

Willie speaks.

I meant the boys at school,
I did not mean my brother. Somebody first, is there the rule-
It must be me or another.

The Father answers.

Oh, Willie, it's all the same!
They are your brothers all; For when you say, "Hallowed be thy name!"
Whose Father is it you call?

Could you pray for such rule to him ?
Do you think that he would hear? Must he favour one in a greedy whim
Where all are his children dear?

It is right to get up and do,
But why outstrip the rest? Why should one of the many be one of the few?
Why should you think to be best?

Willie speaks.

Then how am I to be great?
I know no other way; It would be folly to sit and wait,
I must up and do, you say!

The Father answers.

I do not want you to wait,
For few before they die Have got so far as begin to be great,
The lesson is so high.

I will tell you the only plan
To climb and not to fall: He who would rise and be greater than
He is, must be servant of all.

Turn it each way in your mind,
Try every other plan, You may think yourself great, but at length you'll find
You are not even a man.

Climb to the top of the trees,
Climb to the top of the hill, Get up on the crown of the sky if you please,
You'll be a small creature still.

Be admiral, poet, or king,
Let praises fill both your ears, Your soul will be but a windmill thing
Blown round by its hopes and fears.

IV.

Willie speaks.

Then put me in the way,
For you, papa, are a man: What thing shall I do this very day?-