The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti A variorum edition: Edited, with textual notes and introductions, by R. W. Crump |
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 | The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti |  |
SPRING FANCIES.
I.
Gone were but the Winter,
Come were but the Spring,
I would go to a covert
Where the birds sing
Ding ding, ding a ding.
Come were but the Spring,
I would go to a covert
Where the birds sing
Ding ding, ding a ding.
Where in the whitethorn
Singeth the thrush,
And the robin sings
In a holly bush
With his breast ablush.
Singeth the thrush,
And the robin sings
In a holly bush
With his breast ablush.
Full of fresh scents
Are the budding boughs,
Arching high over
A cool green house
Where doves coo the arouse.
Are the budding boughs,
Arching high over
A cool green house
Where doves coo the arouse.
There the sun shineth
Most shadily;
There sounds an echo
Of the far sea,
Tho' far off it be.
Most shadily;
There sounds an echo
Of the far sea,
Tho' far off it be.
II.
All the world is out in leaf,
Half the world in flower,
Faint the rainbow comes and goes
In a sunny shower;
Earth has waited weeks and weeks
For this special hour.
Half the world in flower,
Faint the rainbow comes and goes
In a sunny shower;
Earth has waited weeks and weeks
For this special hour.
37
All the world is making love;
Bird to bird in bushes,
Beast to beast in glades, and frog
To frog among the rushes:
Wake, O south wind sweet with spice
Wake the rose to blushes.
Bird to bird in bushes,
Beast to beast in glades, and frog
To frog among the rushes:
Wake, O south wind sweet with spice
Wake the rose to blushes.
All the world is full of change;
Tomorrow may be dreary:
Life breaks forth, to right and left
Pipe the woodnotes cheery—
Nevertheless there lie the dead
Fast asleep and weary—
Tomorrow may be dreary:
Life breaks forth, to right and left
Pipe the woodnotes cheery—
Nevertheless there lie the dead
Fast asleep and weary—
III.
If it's weary work to live,
It will rest us to lie dead,
With a stone at the tired feet
And a stone at the tired head.
It will rest us to lie dead,
With a stone at the tired feet
And a stone at the tired head.
In the waxing April days
Half the world will stir and sing,
But half the world will slug and rot
For all the sap of spring.
Half the world will stir and sing,
But half the world will slug and rot
For all the sap of spring.
| The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti | |