Goblin Market, The Prince's Progress and Other Poems

by Christina Rossetti

  'And life is sweet.'

  'It was not so

  To Him, Whose Cup did overflow

  With mine unutterable woe.'

  THE DEVIL

  'Thou drinkest deep.'

  'When Christ would sup

  He drained the dregs from out my cup:

  So how should I be lifted up?'

  'Thou shalt win Glory.'

  'In the skies,

  Lord Jesus, cover up mine eyes

  Lest they should look on vanities.'

  'Thou shalt have Knowledge.'

  'Helpless dust!

  In Thee, O Lord, I put my trust:

  Answer Thou for me, Wise and Just.'

  'And Might.'—

  'Get thee behind me. Lord,

  Who hast redeemed and not abhorred

  My soul, oh keep it by Thy Word.'

  THE ONE CERTAINTY

  SONNET

  VANITY of vanities, the Preacher saith,

  All things are vanity. The eye and ear

  Cannot be filled with what they see and hear.

  Like early dew, or like the sudden breath

  Of wind, or like the grass that withereth,

  Is man, tossed to and fro by hope and fear:

  So little joy hath he, so little cheer,

  Till all things end in the long dust of death.

  Today is still the same as yesterday,

  Tomorrow also even as one of them;

  And there is nothing new under the sun:

  Until the ancient race of Time be run,

  The old thorns shall grow out of the old stem,

  And morning shall be cold and twilight grey.

  CHRISTIAN AND JEW

  A DIALOGUE

  'OH happy happy land!

  Angels like rushes stand

  About the wells of light.'—

  'Alas, I have not eyes for this fair sight:

  Hold fast my hand.—

  'As in a soft wind, they

  Bend all one blessed way,

  Each bowed in his own glory, star with star.'—

  'I cannot see so far,

  Here shadows are.'—

  'White-winged the cherubim,

  Yet whiter seraphim,

  Glow white with intense fire of love.'—

  'Mine eyes are dim:

  I look in vain above,

  And miss their hymn.'—

  'Angels, Archangels cry

  One to other ceaselessly

  (I hear them sing)

  One "Holy, Holy, Holy" to their King.'—

  'I do not hear them, I.'—

  'At one side Paradise

  Is curtained from the rest,

  Made green for wearied eyes;

  Much softer than the breast

  Of mother-dove clad in a rainbow's dyes.

  'All precious souls are there

  Most safe, elect by grace,

  All tears are wiped forever from their face:

  Untired in prayer

  They wait and praise

  Hidden for a little space.

  'Boughs of the Living Vine

  They spread in summer shine

  Green leaf with leaf:

  Sap of the Royal Vine it stirs like wine

  In all both less and chief.

  'Sing to the Lord,

  All spirits of all flesh, sing;

  For He hath not abhorred

  Our low estate nor scorn'd our offering:

  Shout to our King.'—

  'But Zion said:

  My Lord forgetteth me.

  Lo, she hath made her bed

  In dust; forsaken weepeth she

  Where alien rivers swell the sea.

  'She laid her body as the ground,

  Her tender body as the ground to those

  Who passed; her harpstrings cannot sound

  In a strange land; discrowned

  She sits, and drunk with woes.'—

  'O drunken not with wine,

  Whose sins and sorrows have fulfilled the sum,—

  Be not afraid, arise, be no more dumb;

  Arise, shine,

  For thy light is come.'—

  'Can these bones live?'—

  'God knows:

  The prophet saw such clothed with flesh and skin;

  A wind blew on them and life entered in;

  They shook and rose.

  Hasten the time, O Lord, blot out their sin,

  Let life begin.'

  SWEET DEATH

  THE sweetest blossoms die.

  And so it was that, going day by day

  Unto the Church to praise and pray,

  And crossing the green churchyard thoughtfully,

  I saw how on the graves the flowers

  Shed their fresh leaves in showers,

  And how their perfume rose up to the sky

  Before it passed away.

  The youngest blossoms die.

  They die and fall and nourish the rich earth

  From which they lately had their birth;

  Sweet life, but sweeter death that passeth by

  And is as though it had not been:—

  All colours turn to green;

  The bright hues vanish and the odours fly,

  The grass hath lasting worth.

  And youth and beauty die.

  So be it, O my God, Thou God of truth:

  Better than beauty and than youth

  Are Saints and Angels, a glad company;

  And Thou, O Lord, our Rest and Ease,

  Art better far than these.

  Why should we shrink from our full harvest? why

  Prefer to glean with Ruth?

  SYMBOLS

  I WATCHED a rosebud very long

  Brought on by dew and sun and shower,

  Waiting to see the perfect flower:

  Then, when I thought it should be strong,

  It opened at the matin hour

  And fell at evensong.

  I watched a nest from day to day,

  A green nest full of pleasant shade,

  Wherein three speckled eggs were laid:

  But when they should have hatched in May,

  The two old birds had grown afraid

  Or tired, and flew away.

  Then in my wrath I broke the bough

  That I had tended so with care,

  Hoping its scent should fill the air;

  I crushed the eggs, not heeding how

  Their ancient promise had been fair:

  I would have vengeance now.

  But the dead branch spoke from the sod,

  And the eggs answered me again:

  Because we failed dost thou complain?

  Is thy wrath just? And what if God,

  Who waiteth for thy fruits in vain,

  Should also take the rod?

  'CONSIDER THE LILIES OF THE FIELD'

  FLOWERS preach to us if we will hear:—

  The rose saith in the dewy morn:

  I am most fair;

  Yet all my loveliness is born

  Upon a thorn.

  The poppy saith amid the corn:

  Let but my scarlet head appear

  And I am held in scorn;

  Yet juice of subtle virtue lies

  Within my cup of curious dyes.

  The lilies say: Behold how we

  Preach without words of purity.

  The violets whisper from the shade

  Which their own leaves have made:

  Men scent our fragrance on the air,

  Yet take no heed

  Of humble lessons we would read.

  But not alone the fairest flowers:

  The merest grass

  Along the roadside where we pass,

  Lichen and moss and sturdy weed,

  Tell of His love who sends the dew,

  The rain and sunshine too,

  To nourish one small seed.

  THE WORLD

  SONNET

  BY day she woos me, soft, exceeding fair:
/>   But all night as the moon so changeth she;

  Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy

  And subtle serpents gliding in her hair.

  By day she woos me to the outer air,

  Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety:

  But through the night, a beast she grins at me,

  A very monster void of love and prayer.

  By day she stands a lie: by night she stands

  In all the naked horror of the truth

  With pushing horns and clawed and clutching hands.

  Is this a friend indeed; that I should sell

  My soul to her, give her my life and youth,

  Till my feet, cloven too, take hold on hell?

  A TESTIMONY

  I SAID of laughter: it is vain.

  Of mirth I said: what profits it?

  Therefore I found a book, and writ

  Therein how ease and also pain,

  How health and sickness, every one

  Is vanity beneath the sun.

  Man walks in a vain shadow; he

  Disquieteth himself in vain.

  The things that were shall be again;

  The rivers do not fill the sea,

  But turn back to their secret source;

  The winds too turn upon their course.

  Our treasures moth and rust corrupt,

  Or thieves break through and steal, or they

  Make themselves wings and fly away.

  One man made merry as he supped,

  Nor guessed how when that night grew dim

  His soul would be required of him.

  We build our houses on the sand

  Comely withoutside and within;

  But when the winds and rains begin

  To beat on them, they cannot stand:

  They perish, quickly overthrown,

  Loose from the very basement stone.

  All things are vanity, I said:

  Yea vanity of vanities.

  The rich man dies; and the poor dies:

  The worms feeds sweetly on the dead.

  Whate'er thou lackest, keep this trust:

  All in the end shall have but dust:

  The one inheritance, which best

  And worst alike shall find and share:

  The wicked cease from troubling there,

  And there the weary be at rest;

  There all the wisdom of the wise

  Is vanity of vanities.

  Man flourishes as a green leaf

  And as a leaf doth pass away;

  Or as a shade that cannot stay

  And leaves no track, his course is brief:

  Yet man doth hope and fear and plan

  Till he is dead:—oh foolish man!

  Our eyes cannot be satisfied

  With seeing, nor our ears be filled

  With hearing: yet we plant and build

  And buy and make our borders wide;

  We gather wealth, we gather care,

  But know not who shall be our heir.

  Why should we hasten to arise

  So early, and so late take rest?

  Our labour is not good; our best

  Hopes fade; our heart is stayed on lies:

  Verily, we sow wind; and we

  Shall reap the whirlwind, verily.

  He who hath little shall not lack;

  He who hath plenty shall decay:

  Our fathers went; we pass away;

  Our children follow on our track:

  So generations fail, and so

  They are renewed and come and go.

  The earth is fattened with our dead;

  She swallows more and doth not cease:

  Therefore her wine and oil increase

  And her sheaves are not numberèd;

  Therefore her plants are green, and all

  Her pleasant trees lusty and tall.

  Therefore the maidens cease to sing,

  And the young men are very sad;

  Therefore the sowing is not glad,

  And mournful is the harvesting.

  Of high and low, of great and small,

  Vanity is the lot of all.

  A King dwelt in Jerusalem;

  He was the wisest man on earth;

  He had all riches from his birth,

  And pleasures till he tired of them;

  Then, having tested all things, he

  Witnessed that all are vanity.

  SLEEP AT SEA

  SOUND the deep waters:—

  Who shall sound that deep?—

  Too short the plummet,

  And the watchmen sleep.

  Some dream of effort

  Up a toilsome steep;

  Some dream of pasture grounds

  For harmless sheep.

  White shapes flit to and fro

  From mast to mast;

  They feel the distant tempest

  That nears them fast:

  Great rocks are straight ahead,

  Great shoals not past;

  They shout to one another

  Upon the blast.

  Oh, soft the streams drop music

  Between the hills,

  And musical the birds' nests

  Beside those rills:

  The nests are types of home

  Love-hidden from ills,

  The nests are types of spirits

  Love-music fills.

  So dream the sleepers,

  Each man in his place;

  The lightning shows the smile

  Upon each face:

  The ship is driving, driving,

  It drives apace:

  And sleepers smile, and spirits

  Bewail their case.

  The lightning glares and reddens

  Across the skies;

  It seems but sunset

  To those sleeping eyes.

  When did the sun go down

  On such a wise?

  From such a sunset

  When shall day arise?

  'Wake,' call the spirits:

  But to heedless ears:

  They have forgotten sorrows

  And hopes and fears;

  They have forgotten perils

  And smiles and tears;

  Their dream has held them long,

  Long years and years.

  'Wake,' call the spirits again:

  But it would take

  A louder summons

  To bid them awake.

  Some dream of pleasure

  For another's sake;

  Some dream, forgetful

  Of a lifelong ache.

  One by one slowly,

  Ah, how sad and slow!

  Wailing and praying

  The spirits rise and go:

  Clear stainless spirits

  White as white as snow;

  Pale spirits, wailing

  For an overthrow.

  One by one flitting,

  Like a mournful bird

  Whose song is tired at last

  For no mate heard.

  The loving voice is silent,

  The useless word;

  One by one flitting

  Sick with hope deferred.

  Driving and driving,

  The ship drives amain:

  While swift from mast to mast