Poetry Friday - Smoke

Here's a poem, which I am actually quite surprised hasn't already featured on this blog, because it has been scrawled in every journal I ever owned, usually inside the front cover - not that I do much journaling these days (what are blogs for!), though I do have a journal which has inscribed on the cover, in Harry-Potter-style font, "the deeply unfortunate doings of an ill-fated life" (must have been a bad day).

Smoke

Lord, I have laid my heart upon thy altar

But cannot get the wood to burn;

It hardly flares ere it begins to falter

And to the dark return.

Old sap, or night-fallen dew, makes damp the fuel;

In vain my breath would flame provoke;

Yet see—at every poor attempt's renewal

To thee ascends the smoke!

'Tis all I have—smoke, failure, foiled endeavour,

Coldness and doubt and palsied lack:

Such as I have I send thee!—perfect Giver,

Send thou thy lightning back.

George MacDonald