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The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1
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I must go forth and do my daily work.
I thank thee, God, that it is hard sometimes
To do my daily labour; for, of old,
When men were poor, and could not bring thee much,
A turtle-dove was all that thou didst ask;
And so in poverty, and with a heart
Oppressed with heaviness, I try to do
My day's work well to thee,—my offering:
That he has taught me, who one day sat weary
At Sychar's well. Then home when I return,
I come without upbraiding thoughts to thee.
Ah! well I see man need not seek for penance—
Thou wilt provide the lamb for sacrifice;
Thou only wise enough to teach the soul,
Measuring out the labour and the grief,
Which it must bear for thy sake, not its own.
He neither chose his glory, nor devised
The burden he should bear; left all to God;
And of them both God gave to him enough.
And see the sun looks faintly through the mist;
It cometh as a messenger to me.
My soul is heavy, but I will go forth;
My days seem perishing, but God yet lives
And loves. I cannot feel, but will believe.
[He rises and is going. LILIA enters, looking weary.]
Look, my dear Lilia, how the sun shines out!
Lilia.
Shines out indeed! Yet 'tis not bad for England.
I would I were in Italy, my own!
[Weeps.]
Julian.
'Tis the same sun that shines in Italy.
Lilia.
But never more will shine upon us there!
It is too late; all wishing is in vain;
But would that we had not so ill deserved
As to be banished from fair Italy!
Julian.
Ah! my dear Lilia, do not, do not think
That God is angry when we suffer ill.
'Twere terrible indeed, if 'twere in anger.
Lilia.
Julian, I cannot feel as you. I wish
I felt as you feel.
Julian.
God will hear you, child,
If you will speak to him. But I must go.
Kiss me, my Lilia.
[She kisses him mechanically. He goes with a sigh.]
Lilia.
It is plain to see
He tries to love me, but is weary of me.
[She weeps.]
Enter LILY.
Lily. Mother, have you been naughty? Mother, dear!
[Pulling her hand from her face.]
SCENE VII.—Julian's room. Noon. LILIA at work; LILY playing in a closet
Lily
(running up to her mother).
Sing me a little song; please, mother dear.
[LILIA, looking off her work, and thinking with fixed eyes for a few moments, sings.]
SONG
Once I was a child,
Oimè!
Full of frolic wild;
Oimè!
All the stars for glancing,
All the earth for dancing;
Oimè! Oimè!
When I ran about,
Oimè!
All the flowers came out,
Oimè!
Here and there like stray things,
Just to be my playthings.
Oimè! Oimè!
Mother's eyes were deep,
Oimè!
I thank thee, God, that it is hard sometimes
To do my daily labour; for, of old,
When men were poor, and could not bring thee much,
A turtle-dove was all that thou didst ask;
And so in poverty, and with a heart
Oppressed with heaviness, I try to do
My day's work well to thee,—my offering:
That he has taught me, who one day sat weary
At Sychar's well. Then home when I return,
I come without upbraiding thoughts to thee.
Ah! well I see man need not seek for penance—
Thou wilt provide the lamb for sacrifice;
Thou only wise enough to teach the soul,
Measuring out the labour and the grief,
Which it must bear for thy sake, not its own.
He neither chose his glory, nor devised
The burden he should bear; left all to God;
And of them both God gave to him enough.
And see the sun looks faintly through the mist;
It cometh as a messenger to me.
My soul is heavy, but I will go forth;
My days seem perishing, but God yet lives
And loves. I cannot feel, but will believe.
[He rises and is going. LILIA enters, looking weary.]
Look, my dear Lilia, how the sun shines out!
Lilia.
Shines out indeed! Yet 'tis not bad for England.
I would I were in Italy, my own!
[Weeps.]
Julian.
'Tis the same sun that shines in Italy.
Lilia.
But never more will shine upon us there!
It is too late; all wishing is in vain;
But would that we had not so ill deserved
As to be banished from fair Italy!
Julian.
Ah! my dear Lilia, do not, do not think
That God is angry when we suffer ill.
'Twere terrible indeed, if 'twere in anger.
Lilia.
Julian, I cannot feel as you. I wish
I felt as you feel.
Julian.
God will hear you, child,
If you will speak to him. But I must go.
Kiss me, my Lilia.
[She kisses him mechanically. He goes with a sigh.]
Lilia.
It is plain to see
He tries to love me, but is weary of me.
[She weeps.]
Enter LILY.
Lily. Mother, have you been naughty? Mother, dear!
[Pulling her hand from her face.]
SCENE VII.—Julian's room. Noon. LILIA at work; LILY playing in a closet
Lily
(running up to her mother).
Sing me a little song; please, mother dear.
[LILIA, looking off her work, and thinking with fixed eyes for a few moments, sings.]
SONG
Once I was a child,
Oimè!
Full of frolic wild;
Oimè!
All the stars for glancing,
All the earth for dancing;
Oimè! Oimè!
When I ran about,
Oimè!
All the flowers came out,
Oimè!
Here and there like stray things,
Just to be my playthings.
Oimè! Oimè!
Mother's eyes were deep,
Oimè!
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