The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume Ii Part 30

_DR. DODDRIDGE'S DOG_.

"What! you Dr. Doddridge's dog, and not know who made you?"

My little dog, who blessed you With such white toothy-pegs?

And who was it that dressed you In such a lot of legs?

Perhaps he never told you!

Perhaps you know quite well, And beg me not to scold you For you can't speak to tell!

I'll tell you, little brother, In case you do not know:-- One only, not another, Could make us two just so.

You love me?--Quiet!--I'm proving!-- It must be G.o.d above That filled those eyes with loving: He was the first to love!

One day he'll stop all sadness-- Hark to the nightingale!

Oh blessed G.o.d of gladness!-- Come, doggie, wag your tail!

That's--Thank you, G.o.d!--He gave you Of life this little taste; And with more life he'll save you, Not let you go to waste!

He says now, Live together, And share your bite and sup; And then he'll say, Come hither-- And lift us both high up.

_THE GIRL THAT LOST THINGS_.

There was a girl that lost things-- Nor only from her hand; She lost, indeed--why, most things, As if they had been sand!

She said, "But I must use them, And can't look after all!

Indeed I did not lose them, I only let them fall!"

That's how she lost her thimble, It fell upon the floor: Her eyes were very nimble But she never saw it more.

And then she lost her dolly, Her very doll of all!

That loss was far from jolly, But worse things did befall.

She lost a ring of pearls With a ruby in them set; But the dearest girl of girls Cried only, did not fret.

And then she lost her robin; Ah, that was sorrow dire!

He hopped along, and--bob in-- Hopped bob into the fire!

And once she lost a kiss As she came down the stair; But that she did not miss, For sure it was somewhere!

Just then she lost her heart too, But did so well without it She took that in good part too, And said--not much about it.

But when she lost her health She did feel rather poor, Till in came loads of wealth By quite another door!

And soon she lost a dimple That was upon her cheek, But that was very simple-- She was so thin and weak!

And then she lost her mother, And thought that she was dead; Sure there was not another On whom to lay her head!

And then she lost her self-- But that she threw away; And G.o.d upon his shelf It carefully did lay.

And then she lost her sight, And lost all hope to find it; But a fountain-well of light Came flashing up behind it.

At last she lost the world: In a black and stormy wind Away from her it whirled-- But the loss how could she mind?

For with it she lost her losses, Her aching and her weeping, Her pains and griefs and crosses, And all things not worth keeping;

It left her with the lost things Her heart had still been craving; 'Mong them she found--why, most things, And all things worth the saving.

She found her precious mother, Who not the least had died; And then she found that other Whose heart had hers inside.

And next she found the kiss She lost upon the stair; 'Twas sweeter far, I guess, For ripening in that air.

She found her self, all mended, New-drest, and strong, and white; She found her health, new-blended With a radiant delight.

She found her little robin: He made his wings go flap, Came fluttering, and went bob in, Went bob into her lap.

So, girls that cannot keep things, Be patient till to-morrow; And mind you don't beweep things That are not worth such sorrow;

For the Father great of fathers, Of mothers, girls, and boys, In his arms his children gathers, And sees to all their toys.

_A MAKE-BELIEVE_.

I will think as thinks the rabbit:--

Oh, delight In the night When the moon Sets the tune To the woods!

And the broods All run out, Frisk about, Go and come, Beat the drum-- Here in groups, There in troops!

Now there's one!

Now it's gone!

There are none!

And now they are dancing like chaff!

I look, and I laugh, But sit by my door, and keep to my habit-- A wise, respectable, clean-furred old rabbit!

Now I'm going, Business calls me out-- Going, going, Very knowing, Slow, long-heeled, and stout, Loping, lumbering, Nipping, numbering, Head on this side and on that, Along the pathway footed flat, Through the meadow, through the heather, Through the rich dusky weather-- Big stars and little moon!

Dews are lighting down in crowds, Odours rising in thin clouds, Night has all her chords in tune-- The very night for us, G.o.d's rabbits, Suiting all our little habits!

Wind not loud, but playful with our fur, Just a cool, a sweet, a gentle stir!

And all the way not one rough bur, But the dewiest, freshest gra.s.ses, That whisper thanks to every foot that pa.s.ses!

I, the king the rest call Mappy, Canter on, composed and happy, Till I come where there is plenty For a varied meal and dainty.

Is it cabbage, I grab it; Is it parsley, I nab it; Is it carrot, I mar it; The turnip I turn up And hollow and swallow; A lettuce? Let us eat it!

A beetroot? Let's beat it!

If you are juicy, Sweet sir, I will use you!

For all kinds of corn-crop I have a born crop!

Are you a green top?