Ere autumn leaves are wan.
I will not tell her that I love
Lest she should turn away
With sorrow in her tender heart
Which now is light and gay.
I will not tell her that I love
Lest she should turn and say
That we must meet no more again
For many a weary day.
A DIRGE
She was as sweet as violets in the Spring,
As fair as any rose in Summer time:
But frail are roses in their prime
And violets in their blossoming.
Even so was she:
And now she lies,
The earth upon her fast closed eyes,
Dead in the darkness silently.
The sweet Spring violets never bud again,
The roses bloom and perish in a morn:
They see no second quickening lying lorn;
Their beauty dies as tho’ in vain.
Must she die so
For evermore,
Cold as the sand upon the shore,
As passionless for joy and woe? —
Nay, she is worth much more than flowers that fade
And yet shall be made fair with purple fruit;
Branch of the Living Vine, Whose Root
From all eternity is laid.
Another Sun
Than this of our’s,
Has withered up indeed her flowers
But ripened her grapes every one.
SONG: IT IS NOT FOR HER EVEN BROW
It is not for her even brow
And shining yellow hair,
But it is for her tender eyes
I think my love so fair;
Her telltale eyes that smile and weep
As frankly as they wake and sleep.
It is not for her rounded cheek
I love and fain would win,
But it is for the blush that comes
Straight from the heart within;
The honest blush of maiden shame
That blushes without thought of blame.
So in my dreams I never hear
Her song, although she sings
As if a choir of spirits swept
From earth with throbbing wings;
I only hear the simple voice
Whose love makes many hearts rejoice.
A DREAM
Oh for my love, my only love,
Oh for my lost love far away! —
Oh that the grass were green above
Her head or mine this weary day: —
The grass green in the morning grey.
She lies down in a foreign land
And in a foreign land doth rise.
I cannot hold her by the hand;
I cannot read her speaking eyes
That turned mere spoken words to lies.
This is the bough she leaned upon
And watched the rose deep western sky,
For the last sun rays almost gone:
I did not hear the wind pass by,
Nor stream; I only heard her sigh.
I saw the tears that did not fall,
I saw the blush upon her cheek,
The trembling hand so white and small:
She did not speak, I could not speak: —
Oh that strong love should make us weak.
Therefore we parted as we met,
She on her way, and I on mine.
I think her tender heart was set
On holier things and more Divine: —
We parted thus and gave no sign.
Oh that the grass were green above
Her head or mine; so I could pray
In certain faith for her my love,
Unchanging, all the night and day:
Most near altho’ most far away.
A FAIR WORLD THO’ A FALLEN
You tell me that the world is fair, in spite
Of the old fall; and that I should not turn
So to the grave, and let my spirit yearn
After the quiet of the long last night.
Have I then shut mine eyes against the light,
Grief-deafened lest my spirit should discern?
Yet how could I keep silence when I burn?
And who can give me comfort? — hear the right.
Have patience with the weak and sick at heart:
Bind up the wounded with a tender touch.
Comfort the sad, tear-blinded as they go: —
For tho’ I failed to choose the better part,
Were it a less unutterable woe
If we should come to love this world too much? —
ADVENT: “COME,” THOU DOST SAY TO ANGELS
“Come,” thou dost say to Angels,
To blessed Spirits, “Come”;
“Come,” to the Lambs of Thine Own flock,
Thy little Ones, “Come home.”
“Come,” from the many-mansioned house
The gracious word is sent,
“Come,” from the ivory palaces
Unto the Penitent.
O Lord, restore us deaf and blind,
Unclose our lips tho’ dumb;
Then say to us, I come with speed,
And we will answer, Come.
ALL SAINTS
They have brought gold and spices to my King,
Incense and precious stuffs and ivory;
O holy Mother mine, what can I bring
That so my Lord may deign to look on me?
They sing a sweeter song than I can sing,
All crowned and glorified exceedingly;
I, bound on earth, weep for my trespassing,
They sing the song of love in Heaven, set free.
Then answered me my Mother, and her voice,
Spake to my heart, yea, answered in my heart:
Sing, saith He, to the Heavens, to Earth, rejoice;
Thou, also, lift thy heart to Him above;
He seeks not thine, but thee, such as thou art,
For lo! His banner over thee is Love.
EYE HATH NOT SEEN
Our feet shall tread upon the stars
Less bright than we.
The everlasting shore shall bound
A fairer sea
Than that which cold
Now glitters in the sun like gold.
Oh good, oh blest: but who shall say
How fair, how fair,
Is the Light-region where no cloud
Darkens the air,
Where weary eyes
Rest on the green of Paradise?
There cometh not the wind, nor rain,
Nor sun, nor snow;
The trees of Knowledge and of Life
Bud there and blow,
Their leaves and fruit
Fed from an undecaying root.
There Angels flying to and fro
Are not more white
Than Penitents some while ago,
Now Saints in Light:
Once soiled and sad;
Cleansed now and crowned, fulfilled and glad.
Now yearning thro’ the perfect rest
Perhaps they gaze
Earthwards upon their best beloved
In all earth’s ways:
Longing, but not
With pain, as used to be their lot.
The hush of that beatitude
Is ages long,
Sufficing Virgins, Prophets, Saints,
Till the new song
Shall be sent up
From lips which drained the bitter cup.
If but the thought of Paradise
Gives joy on earth,
What shall it be to enter there
Thro’ second birth?
To find once more
Our dearest treasure gone before?
To find the Shepherd of the Sheep,
The Lamb once slain,
Who leads His Own by living streams.
Never again
To thirst, or need
Aught in gree
n pastures where they feed.
But from the Altar comes a cry
Awful and strong
From martyred Saints: How long, they say,
O Lord, how long
Holy and True,
Shall vengeance for our blood be due?
Then the Lord gives them robes of white;
And bids them stay
In patience till the time be full
For the last day:
The day of dread
When the last sentence shall be said.
When heaven and earth shall flee away;
And the great deep
Shall render up her dead, and earth
Her sons that sleep;
And day of grace
Be hid for ever from Thy Face.
Oh hide us till Thy wrath be past,
Our grief, our shame,
With Peter and with Magdalene
And him whose name
No record tells
Who by Thy promise with Thee dwells.
ST. ELIZABETH OF HUNGARY
When if ever life is sweet,
Save in heart in all a child,
A fair virgin undefiled
Knelt she at her Saviour’s feet;
While she laid her royal crown,
Thinking it too mean a thing
For a solemn offering,
Careless on the cushions down.
Fair she was as any rose,
But more pale than lilies white,
Her eyes full of deep repose
Seemed to see beyond our sight.
Hush, she is a holy thing:
Hush, her soul is in her eyes
Seeking far in Paradise
For her Light, her Love, her King.
MOONSHINE
Fair the sun riseth,
Bright as bright can be,
Fair the sun shineth
On a fair fair sea.
“Across the water
“Wilt thou come with me,
“Miles and long miles, love,
“Over the salt sea?” —
“If thou wilt hold me
“Truly by the hand,
“I will go with thee
“Over sea and sand.
“If thou wilt hold me
“That I shall not fall,
“I will go with thee,
“Love, in spite of all.”
Fair the moon riseth
On her heavenly way
Making the waters
Fairer than by day.
A little vessel
Rocks upon the sea,
Where stands a maiden
Fair as fair can be.
Her smile rejoices
Though her mouth is mute,
She treads the vessel
With her little foot.
Truly he holds her
Faithful to his pledge,
Guiding the vessel
From the water’s edge.
Fair the moon saileth
With her pale fair light,
Fair the girl gazeth
Out into the night.
Saith she: “Like silver
“Shines thy hair, not gold;” —
Saith she: “I shiver
“In thy steady hold.
“Love,” she saith weeping,
“Loose thy hold awhile,
“My heart is freezing
“In thy freezing smile.”
The moon is hidden
By a silver cloud,
Fair as a halo
Or a maiden’s shroud.
No more beseeching,
Ever on they go:
The vessel rocketh
Softly to and fro;
And still he holds her
That she shall not fall,
Till pale mists whiten
Dimly over all.
Onward and onward,
Far across the sea;
Onward and onward,
Pale as pale can be;
Onward and onward,
Ever hand in hand,
From sun and moon light
To another land.
THE SUMMER IS ENDED
Wreathe no more lilies in my hair,
For I am dying, Sister sweet:
Or if you will for the last time
Indeed, why make me fair
Once for my windingsheet.
Pluck no more roses for my breast,
For I like them fade in my prime:
Or if you will, why pluck them still
That they may share my rest
Once more, for the last time.
Weep not for me when I am gone,
Dear tender one, but hope and smile:
Or if you cannot choose but weep
A little while, weep on
Only a little while.
I LOOK FOR THE LORD
Our wealth has wasted all away,
Our pleasures have found wings;
The night is long until the day,
Lord, give us better things:
A ray of light in thirsty night
And secret water springs.
Our love is dead, or sleeps, or else
Is hidden from our eyes:
Our silent love, while no man tells
Or if it lives or dies.
Oh give us love, O Lord, above
In changeless Paradise.
Our house is left us desolate,
Even as Thy word hath said.
Before our face the way is great,
Around us are the dead:
Oh guide us, save us from the grave,
As Thou Thy saints hast led.
Lead us where pleasures evermore
And wealth indeed are placed,
And home on an eternal shore,
And love that cannot waste;
Where Joy Thou art unto the heart,
And Sweetness to the taste.
SONG: I HAVE LOVED YOU FOR LONG LONG YEARS ELLEN
I have loved you for long long years Ellen,
On you has my heart been set;
I have loved you for long patient years,
But you do not love me yet.
Oh that the sun that rose that day
Had never and never set,
When I wooed and you did not turn away,
Tho’ you could not love me yet.
I lay lands and gold at your feet Ellen,
At your feet a coronet,
I lay a true heart at your feet Ellen,
But you do not love me yet.
Oh when I too lie dead at your feet,
And in death my heart is set,
Will you love me then, cold proud Ellen,
Tho’ you will not love me yet? —
A DISCOVERY
“I thought your search was over.” — ”So I thought.” —
“But you are seeking still.” — ”Yes, even so:
Still seeking in mine own despite below
That which in Heaven alone is found unsought;
Still spending for that thing which is not bought.” —
“Then chase no more this shifting empty show.” —
“Amen: so bid a drowning man forego
The straw he clutches; will he so be taught?
You have a home where peace broods like a dove
Screened from the weary world’s loud discontent,
You have home here, you wait for home above:
I must unlearn the pleasant ways I went,
Must learn another hope, another love,
And sigh indeed for home in banishment.” —
FROM THE ANTIQUE
The wind shall lull us yet,
The flowers shall spring above us;
And those who hate forget,
And those forget who love us.
The pulse of hope shall cease,
Of joy and of regretting:
We twain shall sleep in peace,
Forgotten and forgetting.
For us no sun shall rise,
> Nor wind rejoice, nor river,
Where we with fast closed eyes
Shall sleep and sleep for ever.
THE HEART KNOWETH ITS OWN BITTERNESS
Weep yet a while
Weep till that day shall dawn when thou shalt smile
Watch till the day
When all save only Love shall pass away.
Weep, sick and lonely,
Bow thy heart to tears,
For none shall guess the secret
Of thy griefs and fears.
Weep, till the day dawn,
Refreshing dew:
Weep till the spring;
For genial showers
Bring up the flowers,
And thou shalt sing
In summer time of blossoming.
Heart sick and silent,
Weep and watch in pain.
Weep for hope perished,
Not to live again;
Weep for love’s hope and fear
And passion vain.
Watch till the day
When all save only love shall pass away.
Then love rejoicing
Shall forget to weep;
Shall hope or fear no more,
Or watch, or sleep,
But only love and cease not,
Deep beyond deep.
Now we sow love in tears,
But then shall reap:
Have patience as the Lord’s Own flock of sheep:
Have patience with His Love,
Who died below, Who lives for thee above.
TO WHAT PURPOSE IS THIS WASTE?
A windy shell singing upon the shore:
A lily budding in a desert place;
Blooming alone
With no companion
To praise its perfect perfume and its grace:
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Christina Rossetti Page 64