No human being e’er passed the bound
Of the pearl-encrusted door.
But the mermaidens sing plaintively
Beneath the deep blue ocean,
And to their song the green fishes dance
With undulating motion.
And the cold bright moon looks down on us
With her fixed unchanging smile;
‘Neath her chilly glance the mermaids dance
Upon each coral isle;
And her beams she laves in the briny waves
With loving constancy;
And she never ceases with light caresses
To soothe the swelling sea;
All night on us she softly shines
With a fond and tender gaze,
Till the sun blushes red from his ocean bed
And sends forth his warming rays.
And then she flies to other skies
Till the sun has run his race,
And again the day to the night’s soft sway
To the moon and stars gives place.
And when the bright sun doth arise,
To tinge with gold the vaulted skies,
When the nightingale no longer sings,
And the blush rose forth its odour flings,
When the breath of morn is rustling through
The trees, and kissing away the dew,
When the sea casts up its foam and spray,
And greets the fresh gale that speeds away,
I fly back to my home in the rushing cascade —
By the silvery streamlet my dark hair I braid,
And then when the sun once more sinks in the ocean,
I glide with a floating and passionless motion,
To my sister ‘neath the boundless sea
And with her till morn dwell joyously.
THE SONG OF THE STAR
I am a star dwelling on high
In the azure of the vaulted sky.
I shine on the land and I shine on the sea,
And the little breezes talk to me.
The waves rise towards me every one
And forget the brightness of the sun:
The growing grass springs up towards me
And forgets the day’s fertility.
My face is light, and my beam is life,
And my passionless being hath no strife.
In me no love is turned to hate,
No fulness is made desolate;
Here is no hope, no fear, no grief,
Here is no pain and no relief;
Nor birth nor death hath part in me,
But a profound tranquillity.
The blossoms that bloomed yesterday
Unaltered shall bloom on today,
And on the morrow shall not fade.
Within the everlasting shade
The fountain gushing up for ever
Flows on to the eternal river,
That, running by a reedy shore,
Bubbles, bubbles evermore.
The happy birds sing in the trees
To the music of the southern breeze;
And they fear no lack of food,
Chirping in the underwood;
For ripe seeds and berried bushes
Serve the finches and the thrushes,
And all feathered fowls that dwell
In that shade majestical.
Beyond all clouds and all mistiness
I float in the strength of my loveliness;
And I move round the sun with a measured motion
In the blue expanse of the skyey ocean;
And I hear the song of the Angel throng
In a river of extasy flow along,
Without a pausing, without a hushing,
Like an everlasting fountain’s gushing
That of its own will bubbles up
From a white untainted cup.
Countless planets float round me
Differing all in majesty;
Smaller some, and some more great,
Amethystine, roseate,
Golden, silvery, glowing blue,
Hueless, and of every hue.
Each and all, both great and small,
With a cadence musical,
Shoot out rays of glowing praise,
Never ending, but always
Hymning the Creator’s might
Who hath filled them full of light.
Pealing through eternity,
Filling out immensity,
Sun and moon and stars together,
In heights where is no cloudy weather;
Where is nor storm, nor mist, nor rain;
Where night goeth not to come again.
On, and on, and on forever,
Never ceasing, sinking never,
Voiceless adorations rise
To the Heaven above the skies.
We all chant with a holy harmony,
No discord marreth our melody;
Here are no strifes nor envyings,
But each with love joyously sings,
Forever and ever floating free
In the azure light of infinity.
SUMMER
Hark to the song of greeting! the tall trees
Murmur their welcome in the southern breeze.
Amid the thickest foliage many a bird
Sits singing, their shrill matins scarcely heard
One by one, but all together
Welcoming the sunny weather.
In every bower hums a bee
Fluttering melodiously.
Murmurs joy in every brook,
Rippling with a pleasant look.
What greet they with their guileless bliss?
What welcome with a song like this?
See in the south a radiant form,
Her fair head crowned with roses;
From her bright foot-path flies the storm;
Upon her breast reposes
Many an unconfinèd tress,
Golden, glossy, motionless.
Face and form are love and light,
Soft ineffably, yet bright.
All her path is strewn with flowers,
Round her float the laughing Hours,
Heaven and earth make joyful din,
Welcoming sweet Summer in.
And now she alights on the Earth
To play with her children the flowers;
She touches the stems, and the buds have birth,
And gently she trains them in bowers.
And the bees and the birds are glad,
And the wind catches warmth from her breath,
And around her is nothing sad,
Nor any traces of death.
See now she lays her down
With roses for her crown,
With jessamine and myrtle
Forming her fragrant kirtle;
Conquered by softest slumbers
No more the hours she numbers,
The hours that intervene
Ere she may wing her flight
Far from this smiling scene
With all her love and light,
And leave the flowers and the summer bowers
To wither in autumn and winter hours.
And must they wither then ?
Their life and their perfume
Sinking so soon again
Into their earthy tomb.
Let us bind her as she lies
Ere the fleeting moment flies,
Hand and foot and arm and bosom,
With a chain of bud and blossom ;
Twine red roses round her hands ;
Round her feet twine myrtle bands.
Heap up flowers, higher, higher, —
Tulips like a glowing fire.
Clematis of milky whiteness,
Sweet geraniums’ varied brightness,
Honeysuckle, commeline,
Roses, myrtles, jessamine ;
Heap them higher, bloom on bloom,
Bury her as in. a tomb.
But alas they are withered all.<
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And how can dead flowers bind her?
She pushes away her pall.
And she leaves the dead behind her :
And she flies across the seas.
To gladden for a time
The blossoms and the bees
Of some far-distant clime.
TO MY MOTHER ON HER BIRTHDAY
Today’s your natal day,
Sweet flowers I bring;
Mother, accept, I pray,
My offering.
And may you happy live,
And long us bless;
Receiving as you give
Great happiness.
THE RUINED CROSS
She wreathed bright flower-wreaths in her hair,
And all men smiled as she passed by:
And she smiled too, for now she knew
That her last hour was nigh.
Soft radiance shone upon her path,
Her step was fearless, free and light;
Her cheek was flushed with burning red.
Her azure eye was bright
On, on, still on, she hurried on,
For in the wind she heard a knell,
And to her ear the water’s splash
Was as a dying bell.
And in the flowers she saw decay,
And saw decay in every tree;
And change was written on the sun,
And change upon the sea.
She might not pause upon the road,
Lest Death should claim his promised bride.
Ere yet her longing was fulfilled,
Her young heart satisfied.
The sun arose, the sun went down,
The moonbeams on the waters shone
How many times! yet passed she not,
But ever journeyed on.
And still, tho’ toilsome was the way,
The color flushed her sunken cheek;
Nor dimmed the azure of her eye,
Nor waxed her purpose weak.
At length she reached a lonely spot, …
Why trembled she? why turned she pale?
A ruined Cross stood in the midst
Of a most quiet vale.
A Cross o’ergrown with moss and flowers,
A cross fast sinking to decay;
The Cross she knew, the Cross she loved
In childhood’s happy day.
And she had journeyed many miles,
Morning and eve untiringly,
To look again upon that Cross,
To look again and die.
She knelt within its sacred shade,
And hung her garland on the stone;
Her azure eyes were bright with tears
Of love and joy unknown.
And there she knelt, and there she prayed
Until her heart was satisfied; —
The ancient Cross is standing yet,
The youthful wanderer died.
EVA
(From Maturin’s “Woman.”)
Yes, I loved him all too well,
And my punishment is just,
But its greatness who can tell?
Still I have a steadfast trust
That the sorrow shall not last,
And the trial shall be past,
And my faith shall anchor fast.
Lord, Thou knowest, I have said,
All is good that comes from Thee;
Unto Thee I bow my head.
I have not repented me.
Still, oh! still ‘tis bitter ill;
Still I have a stubborn will,
And my heart is haughty still:
Haughty in its humbleness;
Proud in its idolatry;
Let the loved heel gall and press
On my neck: so it should be.
‘Twas in madness that I spake it:
Let him leave my heart or take it,
Let him heal my heart or break it;
But it still shall be for him,
It shall love him only still. —
Nay, it was no passing whim,
But a woman’s steadfast will.
And this word is aye returning:
And I cannot quell the yearning
That in breast and brain is burning.
Tears of mine may quench it never,
Bitter tears shed all alone;
Dropping, dropping, dropping ever
For the thought of him that’s gone:
Dropping when none see or know.
Woe is me! they only flow
For the joys of long ago.
Foolish one, were it not fitter
For thyself to mourn and pray?
Tho’ thy Father’s cup be bitter,
Put it not from thee away.
It is good and meet and right.
Yea, if darksome be the night,
The day dawn shall be more bright.
Hast thou too much time, in sooth,
For the work of penitence,
That thou wastest tears and youth
Mourning one who is gone hence?
For thyself cry out and weep
Ere that thou lie down and sleep,
And for ever silence keep.
Humbly strive to enter in
By the strait and narrow gate;
Strive the courts of Heaven to win,
Where nought maketh desolate;
Where are none to come and go;
Where no tears may ever flow;
Where nor death may be, nor woe.
And in prayer think thou of him
Who hath left thee sad and lone.
Pray that earth’s light may grow dim,
So to him Heaven’s light be shown.
Pray that, all thy sins forgiven,
Pray that, from his errors shriven,
Ye may meet at length in Heaven.
LOVE EPHEMERAL
Love is sweet, and so are flowers
Blooming in bright summer bowers;
So are waters, clear and pure,
In some hidden fountain’s store;
So is the soft southern breeze
Sighing low among the trees;
So is the bright queen of heaven,
Reigning in the quiet even:
Yet the pallid moon may breed
Madness in man’s feeble seed;
And the wind’s soft influence
Often breathes the pestilence;
And the waves may sullied be
As they hurry to the sea;
Flowers soon must fade away —
Love endures but for a day.
BURIAL ANTHEM
Flesh of our flesh — bone of our bone —
(For thou and we in Christ are one)
Thy soul unto its rest hath flown,
And thou has left us all alone
Our weary race to run
In doubt, and want, and sin, and pain,
Whilst thou wilt never sin again.
For us remaineth heaviness;
Thou never more shalt feel distress,
For thou hast found repose
Beside the bright eternal river
That clear and pure flows on forever,
And sings as on it flows.
And it is better far for thee
To reach at once thy rest,
Than share with us earth’s misery,
Or tainted joy at best;
Brother, we will not mourn for thee,
Although our hearts be weary
Of struggling with our enemy,
When all around is dreary.
But we will pray that still we may
Press onward in the narrow way
With a calm thankful resignation,
And joy in this our desolation.
And we will hope at length to be
With our Great Head, and, friend! with thee
Beside that river blest.
SAPPHO
I sigh at day-dawn, and I sigh
When the dull day is passing by.
I sigh at evening,
and again
I sigh when night brings sleep to men.
Oh! it were better far to die
Than thus for ever mourn and sigh,
And in death’s dreamless sleep to be
Unconscious that none weep for me;
Eased from my weight of heaviness,
Forgetful of forgetfulness,
Resting from pain and care and sorrow
Thro’ the long night that knows no morrow;
Living unloved, to die unknown,
Unwept, untended and alone.
TASSO AND LEONORA
A glorious vision hovers o’er his soul,
Gilding the prison and the weary bed
Though hard the pillow placed beneath his head;
Though brackish be the water in the bowl
Beside him; he can see the planets roll
In glowing adoration, without dread;
Knowing how, by unerring wisdom led,
They struggle not against the strong control.
When suddenly a star shoots from the skies,
Than all the other stars more purely bright,
Replete with heavenly loves and harmonies;
He starts: — what meets his full awakening sight?
Lo! Leonora with large humid eyes,
Gazing upon him in the misty light.
ON THE DEATH OF A CAT
A Friend of Mine, Aged Ten Years and a Half.
Who shall tell the lady’s grief
When her Cat was past relief?
Who shall number the hot tears
Shed o’er her, beloved for years?
Who shall say the dark dismay
Which her dying caused that day?
Come, ye Muses, one and all,
Come obedient to my call.
Come and mourn, with tuneful breath,
Each one for a separate death;
And while you in numbers sigh,
I will sing her elegy.
Of a noble race she came,
And Grimalkin was her name.
Young and old full many a mouse
Felt the prowess of her house:
Weak and strong full many a rat
Cowered beneath her crushing pat:
And the birds around the place
Shrank from her too close embrace.
But one night, reft of her strength,
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Christina Rossetti Page 53