The Poetical Works of Christina G. Rossetti, Volume 1Little, Brown,, 1902 |
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Page 8
... flowers Plucked from bowers Where summer ripens at all hours ? But ever in the noonlight She pined and pined away ; Sought them by night and day , Found them no more , but dwindled and grew gray ; Then fell with the first snow , While ...
... flowers Plucked from bowers Where summer ripens at all hours ? But ever in the noonlight She pined and pined away ; Sought them by night and day , Found them no more , but dwindled and grew gray ; Then fell with the first snow , While ...
Page 27
... flowers that day ; I pacing balanced in my thoughts , - " It's quite too late to think of nay . " My bridegroom answered in his turn , Myself had almost answered " yea " : When through the flashing nave I heard A struggle and resounding ...
... flowers that day ; I pacing balanced in my thoughts , - " It's quite too late to think of nay . " My bridegroom answered in his turn , Myself had almost answered " yea " : When through the flashing nave I heard A struggle and resounding ...
Page 29
... flowers , Never a bud or leaf again But for soaking showers ; Never a mated bird In the rocking tree - tops , Never indeed a flock or herd To graze upon the lea - crops . Lambs so woolly white , Sheep the sun - bright leas on , They ...
... flowers , Never a bud or leaf again But for soaking showers ; Never a mated bird In the rocking tree - tops , Never indeed a flock or herd To graze upon the lea - crops . Lambs so woolly white , Sheep the sun - bright leas on , They ...
Page 35
... flower , Before the sun has power To scorch the world up in his noontide hour . There is no time like Spring , Like Spring that passes by ; There is no life like Spring - life born to die , Piercing the sod , Clothing the uncouth clod ...
... flower , Before the sun has power To scorch the world up in his noontide hour . There is no time like Spring , Like Spring that passes by ; There is no life like Spring - life born to die , Piercing the sod , Clothing the uncouth clod ...
Page 40
... flowers : A green turf at his head ; And a stone at his feet , Whereon we may sit In the quiet evening hours . He was born in the Spring , And died before the harvesting : On the last warm summer day He left us ; he would not stay For ...
... flowers : A green turf at his head ; And a stone at his feet , Whereon we may sit In the quiet evening hours . He was born in the Spring , And died before the harvesting : On the last warm summer day He left us ; he would not stay For ...
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Common terms and phrases
beneath bird blossoms blow bough breast Bride CHRISTINA G cold dead dear death door dove dream earth evermore eyes face fair fast feet flowers fruit goblin golden gone green grieve hair hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hope and fear hour Lady lambs land laugh Laura leaves lilies little love live Lizzie look Lord maiden Meggan merry moan moon morning mother naked truth nest never night OH SONG pale Paradise pass pleasant rose saith sang shadows shine tearful sigh sight silent silent envy sing sister skylark sleep smile snow song song and silence sorrow soul spring stand stay stood summer swallow sweet tears thee thou to-day to-morrow tree turned Vanity of vanities voice wait wake warm watch waxed weeping White poppies wind windy fall word young Bleeds
Popular passages
Page 77 - Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn.
Page 77 - Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow, dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face?
Page 38 - Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had...
Page 51 - O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet, Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, Where souls brim-full of love abide and meet; Where thirsting longing eyes Watch the slow door That opening, letting in, lets out no more. Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again...
Page 67 - When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet: And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.
Page 14 - At twilight, halted by the brook: And for the first time in her life Began to listen and look. Laughed every goblin When they spied her peeping: Came towards her hobbling, Flying, running, leaping, Puffing and blowing, Chuckling, clapping, crowing, Clucking and gobbling, Mopping and mowing...
Page 137 - Too late for love, too late for joy, Too late, too late ! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate : The enchanted dove upon her branch Died without a mate ; The enchanted princess in her tower Slept, died, behind the grate ; Her heart was starving all this while You made it wait.
Page 96 - 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...
Page 5 - One had a cat's face, One whisked a tail, One tramped at a rat's pace, One crawled like a snail, One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry, One like a ratel tumbled hurry-scurry.
Page 25 - Through sleep, as through a veil, She sees the sky look pale, And hears the nightingale That sadly sings. Rest, rest, a perfect rest Shed over brow and breast; Her face is toward the west, The purple land. She cannot see the grain Ripening on hill and plain; She cannot feel the rain Upon her hand. Rest, rest...