Selected Poems of Christina Rossetti
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for baulked desire, and wept As if her heart would break. Day after day, night after night, Laura kept watch in vain In sullen silence of exceeding pain. She never caught again the goblin cry, Come buy, come buy;’– She never spied the goblin men Hawking their fruits along the glen: But when the noon waxed bright Her hair grew thin and grey; She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn To swift decay and burn Her fire away. One day remembering her kernel-stone She set it by a wall
could bear The light on its face of care And grey scattered hair. No grave for Hope in the earth, But deep in that silent soul Which rang no bell for its birth And rings no funeral toll. Cover its once bright head; Nor odours nor tears be shed: It lived once, it is dead. Brief was the day of its power, The day of its grace how brief: As the fading of a flower, As the falling of a leaf, So brief its day and its hour; No bud more and no bower Or hint of a flower. Shall many wail
spirits, hastened to introduce the new-comers to Maude; who, perfectly unembarrassed, bowed and uttered little speeches with the manner of a practical woman of the world; while the genuine, unobtrusive courtesy of Agnes did more towards making their guests comfortable than the eager good nature of her sister, or the correct breeding of her cousin. At length the preliminaries were all accomplished, every one having found a seat, or being otherwise satisfactorily disposed of. The elders of the
by inch, the time grows old, Grows old in which I grieve. That is the essential Christina, at once controlled and passionate, unshakeable when her mind was made up. These characteristics may be recognized and admired even by contemporary readers whose conceptions are very different and to whom her conduct may seem bizarre as it is unfashionable. The style is the woman and nothing could be more unaffected than her use of language, designed not to impress or to amuse but to say what she has to
Shall I bid no other guest? Seven slow nights have passed away Over my forgotten clay: None must come save you and she. NEXT OF KIN The shadows gather round me, while you are in the sun: My day is almost ended, but yours is just begun: The winds are singing to us both and the streams are singing stil And they fill your heart with music, but mine they cannot fil Your home is built in sunlight, mine in another day: Your home is close at hand, sweet friend, but mine is far away: Your bark