And John the well-beloved.
Bring your finest linen and your spice,
Swathe the Sacred Dead,
Bind with careful hands and piteous eyes
The napkin round His Head;
Lay Him in the garden rock to rest;
Rest you the Sabbath length:
The Sun That went down crimson in the west
Shall rise renewed in strength.
God Almighty shall give joy for pain,
Shall comfort him who grieves:
Lo, He with joy shall doubtless come again
And with Him bring His sheaves.
COME UNTO ME
Oh for the time gone by when thought of Christ
Made His yoke easy and His burden light;
When my heart stirred within me at the sight
Of Altar spread for awful Eucharist;
When all my hopes His promises sufficed;
When my soul watched for Him by day by night;
When my lamp lightened, and my robe was white,
And all seemed loss except the Pearl unpriced.
Yet since He calls me still with tender call,
Since He remembers Whom I half forgot,
I even will run my race and bear my lot:
For Faith the walls of Jericho cast down,
And Hope to whoso runs holds forth a crown,
And Love is Christ, and Christ is All in all.
ASH WEDNESDAY
Jesus, do I love Thee?
Thou art far above me,
Seated out of sight
Hid in heavenly light
Of most highest height.
Martyred hosts implore Thee,
Seraphs fall before Thee,
Angels and Archangels,
Cherub throngs adore Thee;
Blessed she that bore Thee! —
All the Saints approve Thee,
All the Virgins love Thee.
I show as a blot
Blood hath cleansed not,
As a barren spot
In Thy fruitful lot.
I, figtree fruit-unbearing,
Thou, Righteous Judge unsparing:
What canst Thou do more to me
That shall not more undo me?
Thy Justice hath a sound:
“Why cumbereth it the ground?”
Thy Love with stirrings stronger
Pleads: “Give it one year longer.”
Thou giv’st me time: but who
Save Thou, shall give me dew,
Shall feed my root with Blood
And stir my sap for good? —
Oh by Thy gifts that shame me
Give more lest they condemn me:
Good Lord, I ask much of Thee,
But most I ask to love Thee:
Kind Lord, be mindful of me,
Love me and make me love Thee.
SPRING FANCIES
I.
Gone were but the Winter,
Come were but the Spring,
I would go to a covert
Where the birds sing
Ding ding, ding a ding.
Where in the whitethorn
Singeth the thrush,
And the robin sings
In a holly bush
With his breast ablush.
Full of fresh scents
Are the budding boughs,
Arching high over
A cool green house
Where doves coo the arouse.
There the sun shineth
Most shadily;
There sounds an echo
Of the far sea,
Tho’ far off it be.
II.
All the world is out in leaf,
Half the world in flower,
Faint the rainbow comes and goes
In a sunny shower;
Earth has waited weeks and weeks
For this special hour.
All the world is making love;
Bird to bird in bushes,
Beast to beast in glades, and frog
To frog among the rushes:
Wake, O south wind sweet with spice
Wake the rose to blushes.
All the world is full of change;
Tomorrow may be dreary:
Life breaks forth, to right and left
Pipe the woodnotes cheery —
Nevertheless there lie the dead
Fast asleep and weary —
III.
If it’s weary work to live,
It will rest us to lie dead,
With a stone at the tired feet
And a stone at the tired head.
In the waxing April days
Half the world will stir and sing,
But half the world will slug and rot
For all the sap of spring.
LAST NIGHT
Where were you last night? I watched at the gate;
I went down early, I stayed down late.
Were you snug at home, I should like to know,
Or were you in the coppice wheedling Kate?
She’s a fine girl, with a fine clear skin;
Easy to woo, perhaps not hard to win.
Speak up like a man and tell me the truth:
I’m not one to grow downhearted and thin.
If you love her best speak up like a man;
It’s not I will stand in the light of your plan:
Some girls might cry and scold you a bit
And say they couldn’t bear it; but I can.
Love was pleasant enough, and the days went fast;
Pleasant while it lasted, but it needn’t last;
Awhile on the wax and awhile on the wane,
Now dropped away into the past.
Was it pleasant to you? to me it was;
Now clean gone as an image from glass,
As a goodly rainbow that fades away,
As dew that steams upwards from the grass,
As the first spring day, or the last summer day,
As the sunset flush that leaves heaven grey,
As a flame burnt out for lack of oil
Which no pains relight or ever may.
Good luck to Kate and good luck to you,
I guess she’ll be kind when you come to woo;
I wish her a pretty face that will last,
I wish her a husband steady and true.
Hate you? not I, my very good friend;
All things begin and all have an end.
But let broken be broken; I put no faith
In quacks who set up to patch and mend.
Just my love and one word to Kate:
Not to let time slip if she means to mate; —
For even such a thing has been known
As to miss the chance while we weigh and wait.
PETER GRUMP / FORSS
peter grump
If underneath the water
You comb your golden hair
With a golden comb, my daughter,
Oh, would that I were there.
If underneath the wave
You fill a slimy grave,
Would that I, who could not save,
Might share.
forss
If my love Hero queens it
In summer Fairyland,
What would I be
But the ring on her hand?
Her cheek when she leans it
Would lean on me: —
Or sweet, bitter-sweet,
The flower that she wore
When we parted, to meet
On the hither shore
Anymore? nevermore.
Helen Grey.
Because one loves you, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason you should pout
And like a March wind veer about
And frown and say your shrewish say?
Don’t strain the cord until it snaps,
Don’t split the sound heart with your wedge,
Don’t cut your fingers with the edge
Of your keen wit: you
may perhaps.
Because you’re handsome, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason to be proud?
Your eyes are bold, your laugh is loud,
Your steps go mincing on their way:
But so you miss that modest charm
Which is the surest charm of all;
Take heed; you yet may trip and fall,
And no man care to stretch his arm.
Stoop from your cold height, Helen Grey,
Come down and take a lowlier place;
Come down to fill it now with grace;
Come down you must perforce some day:
For years cannot be kept at bay,
And fading years will make you old;
Then in their turn will men seem cold,
When you yourself are nipped and grey.
IF
If he would come today today today,
Oh what a day today would be;
But now he’s away, miles and miles away
From me across the sea.
O little bird flying flying flying
To your nest in the warm west,
Tell him as you pass that I am dying,
As you pass home to your nest.
I have a sister, I have a brother,
A faithful hound, a tame white dove;
But I had another, once I had another,
And I miss him my love, my love.
In this weary world it is so cold so cold
While I sit here all alone
I would not like to wait and to grow old
But just to be dead and gone.
Make me fair when I lie dead on my bed,
Fair where I am lying;
Perhaps he may come and look upon me dead
He for whom I am dying.
Dig my grave for two with a stone to show it
And on the stone write my name:
If he never comes I shall never know it
But sleep on all the same.
SEASONS
Oh the cheerful budding-time
When thorn-hedges turn to green;
When new leaves of elm and lime
Cleave and shed their winter screen:
Tender lambs are born and baa,
North wind finds no snow to bring,
Vigorous nature laughs Haha
In the miracle of spring.
Oh the gorgeous blossom-days
When broad flag-flowers drink and blow;
In and out in summer blaze
Dragonflies flash to and fro:
Ashen branches hang out keys,
Oaks put forth the rosy shoot,
Wandering herds wax sleek at ease,
Lovely blossoms end in fruit.
Oh the shouting harvest-weeks:
Mother Earth grown fat with sheaves;
Thrifty gleaner finds who seeks:
Russet golden pomp of leaves
Crowns the woods, to fall at length;
Bracing winds are felt to stir,
Ocean gathers up her strength,
Beasts renew their dwindled fur.
Oh the starving winter-lapse,
Ice-bound, hunger-pinched and dim:
Dormant roots recall their saps,
Empty nests show black and grim,
Short-lived sunshine gives no heat,
Undue buds are nipped by frost,
Snow sets forth a windingsheet
And all hope of life seems lost.
HENRY HARDIMAN
Aged 55.
Affliction sore long time he bore,
Physicians were in vain,
Till God did please his soul release,
And ease him of his pain.
WITHIN THE VEIL
She holds a lily in her hand,
Where long ranks of Angels stand;
A silver lily for her wand.
All her hair falls sweeping down,
Her hair that is a golden brown;
A crown beneath her golden crown.
Blooms a rose-bush at her knee,
Good to smell and good to see;
It bears a rose for her, for me:
Her rose a blossom richly grown,
My rose a bud not fully blown
But sure one day to be mine own.
PARADISE: IN A SYMBOL
Golden-winged, silver-winged,
Winged with flashing flame,
Such a flight of birds I saw,
Birds without a name:
Singing songs in their own tongue
(Song of songs) they came.
One to another calling,
Each answering each,
One to another calling
In their proper speech:
High above my head they wheeled,
Far out of reach.
On wings of flame they went and came
With a cadenced clang,
Their silver wings tinkled,
Their golden wings rang,
The wind it whistled thro’ their wings
Where in heaven they sang.
They flashed and they darted
Awhile before mine eyes,
Mounting mounting mounting still
In haste to scale the skies,
Birds without a nest on earth,
Birds of Paradise.
Where the moon riseth not
Nor sun seeks the west,
There to sing their glory
Which they sing at rest,
There to sing their love-song
When they sing their best:
Not in any garden
That mortal foot hath trod,
Not in any flowering tree
That springs from earthly sod,
But in the garden where they dwell
The Paradise of God.
IN JULY
In July
No goodbye;
In Augùst
Part we must.
LOVE HATH A NAME OF DEATH
Love hath a name of Death:
He gives a breath
And takes away.
Lo we beneath his sway
Grow like a flower;
To bloom an hour,
To droop a day,
And fade away.
TU SCENDI DALE STELE, O RE DEL CIELO
Tu scendi dale stele, O Re del Cielo,
E vieni in una grotto al fredo al gelo:
O Bambino mio divino
Io Ti voglio sempre amar!
O Dio beato
E quanto Ti costò l’avermi amato.
ALAS MY LORD
Alas my Lord,
How should I wrestle all the livelong night
With Thee my God, my Strength and my Delight?
How can it need
So agonized an effort and a strain
To make Thy Face of Mercy shine again?
How can it need
Such wringing out of breathless prayer to move
Thee to Thy wonted Love, when Thou art Love?
Yet Abraham
So hung about Thine Arm outstretched and bared,
That for ten righteous Sodom had been spared.
Yet Jacob did
So hold Thee by the clenched hand of prayer
That he prevailed, and Thou didst bless him there.
Elias prayed,
And sealed the founts of Heaven; he prayed again
And lo, Thy Blessing fell in showers of rain.
Gulped by the fish,
As by the pit, lost Jonah made his moan;
And Thou forgavest, waiting to atone.
All Nineveh
Fasting and girt in sackcloth raised a cry,
Which moved Thee ere the day of grace went by.
Thy Church prayed on
And on for blessed Peter in his strait,
Till opened of its own accord the gate.
Yea, Thou my God
Hast prayed all night, and in the garden prayed
Even while, like melting wax, Thy strength was made.
Alas fo
r him
Who faints, despite Thy Pattern, King of Saints:
Alas, alas, for me, the one that faints.
Lord, give us strength
To hold Thee fast, until we hear Thy Voice
Which Thine own know, who hearing It rejoice.
Lord, give us strength
To hold Thee fast until we see Thy Face,
Full Fountain of all Rapture and all Grace.
But when our strength
Shall be made weakness, and our bodies clay,
Hold Thou us fast, and give us sleep till day.
AN ALPHABET
A is the Alphabet, A at its head;
A is an Antelope, agile to run.
B is the Baker Boy bringing the bread,
Or black Bear and brown Bear, both begging for bun.
C is a Cornflower come with the corn;
C is a Cat with a comical look.
D is a dinner which Dahlias adorn;
D is a Duchess who dines with a Duke.
E is an elegant eloquent Earl;
E is an Egg whence an Eaglet emerges.
F is a Falcon, with feathers to furl;
F is a Fountain of full foaming surges.
G is the Gander, the Gosling, the Goose;
G is a Garnet in girdle of gold.
H is a Heartsease, harmonious of hues;
H is a huge Hammer, heavy to hold.
I is an Idler who idles on ice;
I am I — who will say I am not I?
J is a Jacinth, a jewel of price;
J is a Jay, full of joy in July.
K is a King, or a Kaiser still higher;
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Christina Rossetti Page 50