Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Christina Rossetti

by Christina Rossetti

  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;