Christina Georgina Rossetti

“ It may be, could we look with seeing eyes, This spot we stand on is a Paradise Where dead have come to life and lost been found, Where Faith has triumphed, Martyrdom been crowned, Where fools have foiled the wisdom of the wise; From this same spot the dust of saints may rise, And the King's prisoners come to light unbound. O earth, earth, earth, hear thou thy Maker's Word: "Thy dead thou shalt give up, nor hide thy slain"-- Some who went weeping forth shall come again Rejoicing from the east or from the west, As doves fly to their windows, love's own bird Contented and desirous to the nest. ”

“ Winged Angels of this visible world, we fly To sing God's praises in the lofty sky; We scale the height to praise our Lord most High. Eagle and Dove.
I the sun-gazing Eagle,-- I the Dove, With plumes of softness and a note of love,-- We praise by divers gifts One God above. Beasts and Cattle.
We forest Beasts,-- We Beasts of hill or cave,-- We border-loving Creatures of the wave,-- We praise our King with voices deep and grave. Small Animals.
God forms us weak and small, but pours out all We need, and notes us while we stand or fall: Wherefore we praise Him, weak and safe and small. ”

“ My heart is breaking for a little love. Though winter frosts are done, And birds pair every one, And leaves peep out, for springtide is begun. I feel no spring, while spring is wellnigh blown, I find no nest, while nests are in the grove: Woe's me for mine own heart that dwells alone, My heart that breaketh for a little love. While golden in the sun Rivulets rise and run, While lilies bud, for springtide is begun. All love, are loved, save only I; their hearts Beat warm with love and joy, beat full thereof: They cannot guess, who play the pleasant parts, My heart is breaking for a little love. ”

“ All this and more I bore to prove My love, and wilt thou yet mistrust My love?" "Lord, I am fain to think Thou lovest me, For Thou art all in all and I am Thine; And lo! Thy love is better than new wine, And I am sick of love in loving Thee. But dost Thou love me? speak and save, For jealousy is cruel as the grave." "Nay, if thy love is not an empty breath My love is as thine own--deep answers deep. Peace, peace: I give to my beloved sleep, Not death but sleep, for love is strong as death: Take patience; sweet thy sleep shall be, Yea, thou shalt wake in Paradise with Me." ”

“ How she went up to glory From the sea-foam chill and hoary, From the sea-depth black and riven To the calm that is in Heaven? They went down, all the crew, The silks and spices too, The great ones and the small, One and all, one and all. Was it through stress of weather, Quicksands, rocks, or all together? Only the Raven knows this, And he will not disclose this.-- After a day and a year The bridal bells chime clear; After a year and a day The Bridegroom is brave and gay: Love is sound, faith is rotten; The old Bride is forgotten:-- Two ominous Ravens only Remember, black and lonely. ”

“ When once the morning star shall rise, When earth with shadow flees away And we stand safe within the door, Then you shall lift the veil thereof. Look up, rise up: for far above Our palms are grown, our place is set; There we shall meet as once we met, And love with old familiar love. [77] UP-HILL. Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? ”

“ Let the sun blaze out, and let the stream flow, They will blossom and wax fair. "Red and white poppies grow at her feet, The blood-red wait for sweet summer heat, Wrapped in bud-coats hairy and neat; But the white buds swell; one day they will burst, Will open their death-cups drowsy and sweet,-- Which will open the first?" Then a hundred sad voices lifted a wail, And a hundred glad voices piped on the gale: "Time is short, life is short," they took up the tale: "Life is sweet, love is sweet, use to-day while you may; Love is sweet, and to-morrow may fail; Love is sweet, use to-day." ”

“ In a dream it overleaps A world of tedious ills To where the sunshine sleeps On the everlasting hills.-- Say the Saints: There Angels ease us Glorified and white. They say: We rest in Jesus, Where is not day or night. My soul saith: I have sought For a home that is not gained, I have spent yet nothing bought, Have laboured but not attained; My pride strove to mount and grow, And hath but dwindled down; My love sought love, and lo! Hath not attained its crown.-- Say the Saints: Fresh souls increase us, None languish or recede. They say: We love our Jesus, And He loves us indeed. ”

“ Though I till now be barren, now at length, Lord, give me strength To bring forth fruit to Thee. Thou who didst bear for me the crown of thorn, Spitting and scorn; Though I till now have put forth thorns, yet now Strengthen me Thou That better fruit be borne. [290] Thou Rose of Sharon, Cedar of broad roots, Vine of sweet fruits, Thou Lily of the vale with fadeless leaf, Of thousands Chief, Feed Thou my feeble shoots. IF ONLY. If I might only love my God and die! But now He bids me love Him and live on, Now when the bloom of all my life is gone, The pleasant half of life has quite gone by. ”

“ And gathering flowers I listened to the song Of every bird in bower. The world and I are far too full of bliss To think or plan or toil or care; The sun is waxing strong, The days are waxing long, And all that is, Is fair. [22] Here are my buds of lily and of rose, And here's my namesake-blossom, may; And from a watery spot See here forget-me-not, With all that blows To-day. Hark to my linnets from the hedges green, Blackbird and lark and thrush and dove, And every nightingale And cuckoo tells its tale, And all they mean Is love. ”

“ While autumn winds are up and moan Across the barren sea. Hope, memory, love: Hope for fair morn, and love for day, And memory for the evening gray And solitary dove. MIRAGE. The hope I dreamed of was a dream, Was but a dream; and now I wake Exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old, For a dream's sake. [64] I hang my harp upon a tree, A weeping willow in a lake; I hang my silenced harp there, wrung and snapt For a dream's sake. Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart; My silent heart, lie still and break: Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed For a dream's sake. ”

“ Grovel in dust with faces toward the goal Nor won, nor neared: he only laughs who wins. Not neared the goal, the race too late begins; Or left undone, we have yet to do the whole; The sun is hurrying west and toward the pole Where darkness waits for earth with all her kins. Let us to-day, while it is called to-day, Set out, if utmost speed may yet avail-- The shadows lengthen and the light grows pale: For who through darkness and the shadow of death, Darkness that may be felt, shall find a way, Blind-eyed, deaf-eared, and choked with failing breath? ”

“ Milk-white, wine-flushed among the vines, Up and down leaping, to and fro, Most glad, most full, made strong with wines, Blooming as peaches pearled with dew, Their golden windy hair afloat, Love-music warbling in their throat, Young men and women come and go. You linger, yet the time is short: Flee for your life, gird up your strength [73] To flee: the shadows stretched at length Show that day wanes, that night draws nigh; Flee to the mountain, tarry not. Is this a time for smile and sigh, For songs among the secret trees Where sudden bluebirds nest and sport? ”

“ Who sighs for love sighs but for pleasure, Who wastes for love hoards up a treasure; Sweet to be loved and take no count, Sweet it is to love without measure. Sweet my Love whom I loved to try for, Sweet my Love whom I love and sigh for, Will you once love me and sigh for me, You my Love whom I love and die for? [104] MEMENTO MORI. Poor the pleasure Doled out by measure, Sweet though it be, while brief As falling of the leaf; Poor is pleasure By weight and measure. Sweet the sorrow Which ends to-morrow; Sharp though it be and sore, It ends for evermore: Zest of sorrow, What ends to-morrow. ”

“ GROWN AND FLOWN. I loved my love from green of Spring Until sere Autumn's fall; But now that leaves are withering How should one love at all? One heart's too small For hunger, cold, love, everything. I loved my love on sunny days Until late Summer's wane; But now that frost begins to glaze How should one love again? Nay, love and pain Walk wide apart in diverse ways. I loved my love,--alas to see That this should be, alas! I thought that this could scarcely be, Yet has it come to pass: Sweet sweet love was, Now bitter bitter grown to me. ”

“ MAIDEN MAY. Maiden May sat in her bower, In her blush rose bower in flower, Sweet of scent; Sat and dreamed away an hour, Half content, half uncontent. "Why should rose blossoms be born, Tender blossoms, on a thorn Though so sweet? Never a thorn besets the corn Scentless in its strength complete. "Why are roses all so frail, At the mercy of the gale, Of a breath? Yet so sweet and perfect pale, Still so sweet in life and death." [80] Maiden May sat in her bower, In her blush rose bower in flower, Where a linnet Made one bristling branch the tower For her nest and young ones in it. ”

“ While to my mind a root of balm it is, For love at length breeds love; sufficient bliss For life and death and rising up again. Surely when light of Heaven makes all things plain, Love will grow plain with all its mysteries; Nor shall we need to fetch from over seas Wisdom or wealth or pleasure safe from pain. Love in our borders, love within our heart, Love all in all, we then shall bide at rest, Ended for ever life's unending quest, Ended for ever effort, change and fear: Love all in all;--no more that better part Purchased, but at the cost of all things here. ”

“ A husband honourable, brave, Is her main wealth in all the world: And next to him one like herself, One daughter golden-curled: Fair image of her own fair youth, As beautiful and as serene, With almost such another love As her own love has been. Yet, though of world-wide charity, And in her home most tender dove, Her treasure and her heart are stored In the home-land of love. She thrives, God's blessed husbandry; Most like a vine which full of fruit Doth cling and lean and climb toward heaven, While earth still binds its root. ”