Poem by George MacDonald

To S. F. S.

  They say that lonely sorrows do not chance:
  More gently, I think, sorrows together go;
  A new one joins the funeral gliding slow
  With less of jar than when it breaks the dance.
  Grief swages grief, and joy doth joy enhance;
  Nature is generous to her children so.
  And were they quick to spy the flowers that blow,
  As quick to feel the sharp-edged stones that lance
  The foot that must walk naked in life's way,--
  Blest by the roadside lily, free from fear,
  Oftener than hurt by dash of flinty spear,
  They would walk upright, bold, and earnest-gay;
  And when the soft night closed the weary day,
  Would sleep like those that far-off music hear.

1. The Gospel Women. 2. The Woman that lifted up her Voice
2. The Gospel Women. 6. The Woman whom Satan had bound
3. The Gospel Women. 15. Mary
4. The Gospel Women. 4. The Syrophenician Woman
5. The Gospel Women. 11. The Woman of Samaria

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