Bubble

This is one of my top favorite poems, and it also happens to be the content of my very first blog, many months ago. I found it in an ancient book of poems by George MacDonald (well, it was over 100 years old) in one of my favorite bookstores, the Archives, located in Pasadena, CA. I ran out to my car for a scrap of paper and a pen so I could copy it down. Somehow it seems right to re-post it now, though I’m not entirely sure why. Hope you like it.

I am a bubble
Upon thy ever moving, restless sea:
Oh, rest me now from tossing, trespass, trouble;
Take me down into thee.

Give me thy peace:
My heart is aching with unquietness;
Oh, make its inharmonious beating cease;
Thy hand upon it press

My sun! my day!
Swift night and day betwixt, my world doth reel;
Potter, take not thy hand from off the clay
That whirls upon thy wheel.

Oh heart! I cry
For love and life, pardon and hope and strength;
O father, am I thine? – I shall not die –
But I shall sleep at length.