Poem by George MacDonald

To June

Ah, truant, thou art here again, I see!
For in a season of such wretched weather
I thought that thou hadst left us altogether,
Although I could not choose but fancy thee
Skulking about the hill-tops, whence the glee
Of thy blue laughter peeped at times, or rather
Thy bashful awkwardness, as doubtful whether
Thou shouldst be seen in such a company
Of ugly runaways, unshapely heaps
Of ruffian vapour, broken from restraint
Of their slim prison in the ocean deeps.
But yet I may not chide: fall to thy books-
Fall to immediately without complaint-
There they are lying, hills and vales and brooks. 

1. The Gospel Women. 16. The Woman That Was a Sinner
2. The Gospel Women. 3. The Mother of Zebedee's Children
3. The Gospel Women. 7. The Woman Who Came behind Him in the Crowd
4. The Gospel Women. 13. The Woman in the Temple
5. The Gospel Women. 1. The Mother Mary

Print

1481 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version