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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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Those gorgeous stars were not my own,

They made me alien go!

The mother o'er her head had thrown

A veil I did not know!

The moon-blanched fields that seaward went,

The palm-flung, dusky shades,

Bore flowering grasses, knotted, bent,

No slender, spear-like blades.

longed to see the starry host Afar in fainter blue;

But plenteous grass I missed the most,

With daisies glimmering through.

The common things were not the same!

I longed across the foam:

From dew-damp earth that odour came--

I knew the world my home.

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