The Poetical Works of Christina Georgina Rossetti

He left his throne to grovel down
And lick the dust of Seraphs' feet:
For what is knowledge duly weighed?
Knowledge is strong, but love is
sweet;

Yea all the progress he had made
Was but to learn that all is small
Save love, for love is all in all.

I tell you what I dreamed last night.

It was not dark, it was not light, Cold dews had drenched my plenteous hair

Through clay; you came to seek me there,

And Do you dream of me?' you said.

My heart was dust that used to leap
To you; I answered half asleep :
'My pillow is damp, my sheets are
red,

There's a leaden tester to my bed:
Find you a warmer playfellow,
A warmer pillow for your head,
A kinder love to love than mine.'
You wrung your hands: while I, like
lead,

But through the dark my silence spoke

Like thunder. When this morning broke,

My face was pinched, my hair was

grey,

And frozen blood was on the sill Where stifling in my struggle I lay.

If now you saw me you would say:
Where is the face I used to love?
And I would answer: Gone before;
It tarries veiled in Paradise.
When once the morning star shall
rise,

When earth with shadow flees away
And we stand safe within the door,
Then you shall lift the veil thereof.
Look up, rise up: for far above
Our palms are grown, our place is
set;

There we shall meet as once we met,
And love with old familiar love.
9 July 1858.

YET A LITTLE WHILE

Crushed downwards through the THESE days are long before I die:

sodden earth:

You smote your hands but not in mirth,

And reeled but were not drunk with wine.

To sit alone upon a thorn

Is what the nightingale forlorn Does night by night continually : She swells her heart to ecstasy Until it bursts and she can die.

For all night long I dreamed of These days are long that wane and

Of this? when Spring-twigs gleamed You look and long while oftentimes impearled Precursive flush of morning climbs, Who thought of frost that nips the And air vibrates with coming chimes. world?

There are a hundred subtle stings
To prick us in our daily walk :

A young fruit cankered on its

stalk,

6 August 1858.

FATHER AND LOVER

FATHER

A strong bird snared for all his IF underneath the water

All love, are loved, save only I; their hearts

Beat warm with love and joy,

beat full thereof:

O thou, heart-broken for a little love.

Then love shall fill thy girth,
And love make fat thy dearth,

They cannot guess, who play the When new spring builds new heaven

and clean new earth.'

15 February 1859.

SPRING

FROST-LOCKED all the winter,

Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,

What shall make their sap ascend
That they may put forth shoots ?
Tips of tender green,
Leaf, or blade, or sheath;
Telling of the hidden life
That breaks forth underneath,
Life nursed in its grave by Death.

Blows the thaw-wind pleasantly,
Drips the soaking rain,
By fits looks down the waking sun :
Young grass springs on the plain;
Young leaves clothe early hedgerow

trees;

Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,

Swoln with sap put forth their shoots;

Curled-headed ferns sprout in the lane;

Birds sing and pair again.

There is no time like Spring,
When life's alive in everything,
Before new nestlings sing,

Yet saith a saint, 'Take patience Before cleft swallows speed their

for thy scathe';

journey back

Yet saith an angel: Wait, and Along the trackless track—

thou shalt prove

God guides their wing,

True best is last, true life is born of He spreads their table that they

death,

nothing lack,

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