a wintry sonnet - Christina Rossetti

A Robin said: The Spring will never come,
And I shall never care to build again.
A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome,
My sap will never stir for sun or rain.
The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow,
I neither care to wax nor care to wane.
The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago,
Because earth’s rivers cannot fill the main.

When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest,
And trilled a lover’s song in sheer delight.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might
Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.
The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest,
Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore.

One sea-side grave - Christina Rossetti

Unmindful of the roses

unmindful of the thorn

a reaper tired reposes

among his gathered corn

so might I, till the morn!

Cold as the cold Decembers

past as the days that set

while only one remembers

and all the rest forget

but one remembers yet.

After death - Christina Rossetti

The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept
and strewn with rushes, rosemary and may
lay thick upon the bed on which I lay,
were through the lattice ivy-swadows crept.
He learned above me, thinking that I slept
and could not hear him, but I heard him say:
"Poor child, poor child" and as he turned away
came a deep silence, and I knew he wept.
He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold
that hid my face, or take my hand in his,
or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head:
He did not love me living, but once dead
he pittied me, and very sweet it is
to know he still is warm though I am cold.

Remember - Christina Rossetti

La Torre dell' Orologio - Venezia

Remember me when I am gone away,

gone far away into the silent land,

when you can no more hold me by the hand,

nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more, day by day,

you tell me of our future that you planed:

Only remember me; you understand

it will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

and afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

a vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

better by far you should forget and smile

than you should remember and be sad.

May - Christina Rossetti

I cannot tell you how it was;

But this I know: it came to pass

Upon a bright and breezy day

When May was young; ah, pleasant May!

As yet the poppies were not born

Between the blades of tender corn;

The last eggs had not hatched as yet,

Nor any bird foregone its mate.

I cannot tell you what it was;

But this I know: it did but pass.

It passed away with sunny May,

With all sweet things it passed away,

And left me old, and cold, and gray.

a birthday - Christina Rossetti

My heart is like a singing bird

Whose nest is in a water’d shoot;

My heart is like an apple-tree

Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;

My heart is like a rainbow shell

That paddles in a halcyon sea;

My heart is gladder than all these,

Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a daïs of silk and down;

Hang it with vair and purple dyes;

Carve it in doves and pomegranates,

And peacocks with a hundred eyes;

Work it in gold and silver grapes,

In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;

Because the birthday of my life

Is come, my love is come to me.