Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Christina Rossetti

by Christina Rossetti

  Or did their green perfection stand

  Unmoved beneath the perfect skies? —

  Paradise was rapt on high,

  It lies before the gate of Heaven: —

  Eve now slumbers there forgiven,

  Slumbers Rachel comforted,

  Slumber all the blessed dead

  Of days and months and years gone by,

  A solemn swelling company.

  They wait for us beneath the trees

  Of Paradise that lap of ease:

  They wait for us, till God shall please.

  Oh come the day of death, that day

  Of rest which cannot pass away:

  When the last work is wrought, the last

  Pang of pain is felt and past

  And the blessed door made fast.

  TO THE END

  There are lilies for her sisters —

  (Who so cold as they?) —

  And heartsease for one I must not name

  When I am far away.

  I shall pluck the lady lilies

  And fancy all the rest;

  I shall pluck the bright eyed heartsease

  For her sake I love the best,

  As I wander on with weary feet

  Toward the twilight shadowy west.

  Oh bird that fliest eastward

  Unto that sunny land

  Oh wilt thou ‘light on lilies white

  Beside her whiter hand?

  Soft summer wind that breathest

  Of perfumes and sweet spice,

  Ah tell her what I dare not tell

  Of watchful waiting eyes

  Of love that yet may meet again

  In distant Paradise.

  I go from earth to Heaven

  A dim uncertain road,

  A houseless pilgrim thro’ the world

  Unto a sure abode:

  While evermore an Angel

  Goes with me day and night,

  A ministering spirit

  From the land of light,

  My holy fellow servant sent

  To guide my steps aright.

  I wonder if the Angels

  Love with such love as our’s,

  If for each other’s sake they pluck

  And keep eternal flowers.

  Alone I am and weary,

  Alone yet not alone:

  Her soul talks with me by the way

  From tedious stone to stone,

  A blessed Angel treads with me

  The awful paths unknown.

  When will the long road end in rest,

  The sick bird perch and brood?

  When will my Guardian fold his wings

  At rest in the finished good? —

  Lulling lulling me off to sleep:

  While death’s strong hand doth roll

  My sins behind His back,

  And my life up like a scroll,

  Till thro’ sleep I hear kind Angels

  Rejoicing at the goal.

  If her spirit went before me

  Up from night to day,

  It would pass me like the lightning

  That kindles on its way.

  I should feel it like the lightning

  Flashing fresh from Heaven:

  I should long for Heaven sevenfold more,

  Yea and sevenfold seven;

  Should pray as I have not prayed before,

  And strive as I have not striven.

  She will learn new love in Heaven

  Who is so full of love,

  She will learn new depths of tenderness

  Who is tender like a dove.

  Her heart will no more sorrow,

  Her eyes will weep no more:

  Yet it may be she will yearn

  And look back from far before:

  Lingering on the golden threshold

  And leaning from the door.

  ZION SAID

  O Slain for love of me, canst Thou be cold,

  Be cold and far away in my distress:

  Is Thy love also changed growing less and less

  That carried me thro’ all the days of old? —

  O Slain for love of me, O Love untold,

  See how I flag and fail thro’ weariness:

  I flag, while sleepless foes dog me and press

  On me; behold O Lord, O Love behold.

  I am sick for home, the home of love indeed;

  I am sick for Love, that dearest name for Thee:

  Thou Who hast bled, see how my heart doth bleed;

  Open Thy bleeding Side and let me in;

  Oh hide me in Thy Heart from doubt and sin,

  Oh take me to Thyself and comfort me.

  MAY

  Sweet Life is dead. —

  Not so:

  I meet him day by day,

  Where bluest fountains flow

  And trees are white as snow

  For it is time of May.

  Even now from long ago

  He will not say me nay;

  He is most fair to see;

  And if I wander forth, I know

  He wanders forth with me.

  But Life is dead to me;

  The worn-out year was failing

  West winds took up a wailing

  To watch his funeral:

  Bare poplars shivered tall

  And lank vines stretched to see;

  ‘Twixt him and me a wall

  Was frozen of earth like stone

  With brambles overgrown;

  Chill darkness wrapped him like a pall

  And I am left alone.

  How can you call him dead?

  He buds out everywhere:

  In every hedgerow rank,

  On every mossgrown bank

  I find him here and there.

  He crowns my willing head

  With may flowers white and red,

  He rears my tender heartsease bed;

  He makes my branch to bud and bear,

  And blossoms where I tread.

  RIVER THAMES (?)

  There are rivers lapsing down

  Lily-laden to the sea;

  Every lily is a boat

  For bees, one, two, or three:

  I wish there were a fairy boat

  For you, my friend, and me.

  We would rock upon the river,

  Scarcely floating by;

  Rocking rocking like the lilies,

  You, my friend, and I;

  Rocking like the stately lilies

  Beneath the statelier sky.

  But ah, where is that river

  Whose hyacinth banks descend

  Down to the sweeter lilies,

  Till soft their shadows blend

  Into a watery twilight? —

  And ah, where is my friend? —

  A CHILLY NIGHT

  I rose at the dead of night

  And went to the lattice alone

  To look for my Mother’s ghost

  Where the ghostly moonlight shone.

  My friends had failed one by one,

  Middleaged, young, and old,

  Till the ghosts were warmer to me

  Than my friends that had grown cold.

  I looked and I saw the ghosts

  Dotting plain and mound:

  They stood in the blank moonlight

  But no shadow lay on the ground;

  They spoke without a voice

  And they leapt without a sound.

  I called: “O my Mother dear,” —

  I sobbed: “O my Mother kind,

  Make a lonely bed for me

  And shelter it from the wind:

  “Tell the others not to come

  To see me night or day;

  But I need not tell my friends

  To be sure to keep away.”

  My Mother raised her eyes,

  They were blank and could not see;

  Yet they held me with their stare

  While they seemed to look at me.

  She opened her mouth and spoke,

&n
bsp; I could not hear a word

  While my flesh crept on my bones

  And every hair was stirred.

  She knew that I could not hear

  The message that she told

  Whether I had long to wait

  Or soon should sleep in the mould:

  I saw her toss her shadowless hair

  And wring her hands in the cold.

  I strained to catch her words

  And she strained to make me hear,

  But never a sound of words

  Fell on my straining ear.

  From midnight to the cockcrow

  I kept my watch in pain

  While the subtle ghosts grew subtler

  In the sad night on the wane.

  From midnight to the cockcrow

  I watched till all were gone,

  Some to sleep in the shifting sea

  And some under turf and stone:

  Living had failed and dead had failed

  And I was indeed alone.

  LET PATIENCE HAVE HER PERFECT WORK

  I saw a bird alone,

  In its nest it sat alone,

  For its mate was dead or flown

  Tho’ it was early spring.

  Hard by were buds half blown,

  With cornfields freshly sown;

  It could only perch and moan

  That used to sing:

  Droop in sorrow left alone

  A sad sad thing.

  I saw a star alone,

  In blue heaven it hung alone,

  A solitary throne

  In the waste of space:

  Where no moon glories are,

  Where not a second star

  Beams thro’ night from near or far

  To that lone place.

  Its beauties all unknown,

  Its glories all alone

  Sad in heaven’s face.

  Doth the bird desire a mate,

  Pine for a second mate

  Whose first joy was so great

  With its own dove?

  Doth the star supreme in night

  Desire a second light

  To make it seem less bright

  In the shrine of heavenly height

  That is above? —

  Ah, better wait alone,

  In nest or heaven alone,

  Forsaken or unknown;

  Till time being past and gone

  Full eternity rolls on,

  While patience reaps what it has sown

  In the harvest land of love.

  A MARTYR

  It is over the horrible pain,

  All is over the struggle and doubt,

  She’s asleep tho’ her friends stand and weep,

  She’s asleep while the multitudes shout,

  Not to wake to her anguish again

  Not to wake until death is cast out.

  Stoop, look at the beautiful face,

  See the smile on the satisfied mouth,

  The hands crost — she hath conquered not lost,

  She hath drunk who was fevered with drouth.

  She shall sleep in her safe restingplace

  While the hawk spreads her wings toward the south.

  She shall sleep while slow seasons are given,

  While daylight and darkness go round;

  Her heart is at rest in its nest;

  Her body at rest in the ground:

  She has travelled the long road to heaven,

  She sought it and now she has found.

  Will you follow the track that she trod,

  Will you tread in her footsteps, my friend?

  That pathway is rough but enough

  Are the light and the balm that attend.

  Do I tread in her steps, O my God,

  Shall I joy with her joy in the end?

  IN THE LANE

  When my love came home to me

  Pleasant Summer bringing

  Every tree was out in leaf

  Every bird was singing

  Every red rose burst the bud

  On its bramble springing.

  There I met her in the lane

  By those waters gleamy,

  Met her toward the fall of day

  Warm and dear and dreamy;

  Did I loiter in the lane?

  None was there to see me.

  Only roses in the hedge

  Lilies on the river

  Saw our greeting fast and fond,

  Counted gift and giver,

  Saw me take her to my home

  Take her home for ever.

  ACME

  Sleep, unforgotten sorrow, sleep awhile;

  Make even awhile as tho’ I might forget,

  Let the wound staunch thy tedious fingers fret

  Till once again I look abroad and smile

  Warmed in the sunlight: let no tears defile

  This hour’s content, no conscious thorns beset

  My path; O sorrow slumber, slumber yet

  A moment, rouse not yet the smouldering pile.

  So shalt thou wake again with added strength

  O unforgotten sorrow, stir again

  The slackening fire, refine the lulling pain

  To quickened torture and a subtler edge:

  The wrung cord snaps at last; beneath the wedge

  The toughest oak groans long but rends at length.

  A BED OF FORGET-ME-NOTS

  Is love so prone to change and rot

  We are fain to rear forget-me-not

  By measure in a garden plot? —

  I love its growth at large and free

  By untrod path and unlopped tree,

  Or nodding by the unpruned hedge,

  Or on the water’s dangerous edge

  Where flags and meadowsweet blow rank

  With rushes on the quaking bank.

  Love is not taught in learning’s school,

  Love is not parceled out by rule;

  Hath curb or call an answer got? —

  So free must be forget-me-not.

  Give me the flame no dampness dulls,

  The passion of the instinctive pulse,

  Love steadfast as a fixèd star,

  Tender as doves with nestlings are,

  More large than time, more strong than death:

  This all creation travails of —

  She groans not for a passing breath —

  This is forget-me-not and love.

  THE CHIEFEST AMONG TEN THOUSAND

  When sick of life and all the world,

  How sick of all the earth but Thee,

  I lift mine eyes up to the hills,

  Eyes of my heart that truly see:

  I see beyond all death and ills

  Refreshing green for heart and eyes;

  The golden streets and gateways pearled,

  The living trees of paradise.

  Oh that a dove’s white wings I had

  To flee away from this distress

  For Thou art in the wilderness

  Drawing and leading Thine Own love:

  Wherefore it blossoms like a rose,

  The solitary place is glad;

  There sounds the soft voice of the dove

  And there the spicy south wind blows.

  Draw us, we will run after Thee;

  Call us by name, the name we know;

  Call her beloved who was not so,

  Beulah and blessed Hephzibah:

  That where Thou art I too may be

  Bride of the Bridegroom heart to heart;

  Thou God, my Love, the Fairest art

  Where all things fair and lovely are.

  From north and south from east and west

  Thy sons and daughters all shall flock

  Who built their house upon the Rock

  And eagle-like renew their strength:

  How glad and glorious is their rest

  Whom Thou hast purged from fleshly scum, —

  The long-desired is come at length,

  The fulness of the time is come.
<
br />   Then the new heavens and earth shall be

  Where righteousness shall dwell indeed:

  There shall be no more blight nor need

  Nor barrier of the tossing sea;

  No sun and moon alternating

  For God shall be the Light thereof,

  No sorrow more no death no sting

  For God shall reign and God is Love.

  LOOK ON THIS PICTURE AND ON THIS

  I wish we once were wedded, — then I must be true;

  You should hold my will in yours to do or to undo:

  But now I hate myself Eva when I look at you.

  You have seen her hazel eyes, her warm dark skin,

  Dark hair — but oh those hazel eyes a devil is dancing in: —

  You my saint lead up to heaven she lures down to sin.

  Listen Eva I repent, indeed I do my love:

  How should I choose a peacock and leave and grieve a dove? —

  If I could turn my back on her and follow you above.

  No it’s not her beauty bloomed like an autumn peach,

  Not her pomp of beauty too high for me to reach;

  It’s her eyes, her witching manner — ah the lore they teach

  You are winning, well I know it, who should know but I?

  You constrain me, I must yield or else must hasten by: —

  But she, she fascinates me, I can neither fight nor fly.

  She’s so redundant, stately; — in truth now have you seen

  Ever anywhere such beauty, such a stature, such a mien?

  She may be queen of devils but she’s every inch a queen.

  If you sing to me, I hear her subtler sweeter still

  Whispering in each tender cadence strangely sweet to fill

  All that lacks in music all my soul and sense and will.

  If you dance, tho’ mine eyes follow where my hand I gave

  I only see her presence like a sunny wave

  I only feel her presence like a wind too strong to rave.

  If we talk: I love you, do you love me again? —