The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume Ii Part 24

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?

G.o.d 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?

G.o.d thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear?

G.o.d 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 gra.s.s 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 gra.s.s 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 gra.s.s 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?