The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti A variorum edition: Edited, with textual notes and introductions, by R. W. Crump |
 | I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| II. |
| I. |
|
| II. |
| III. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| IV. |
| V. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
|
| III. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
Better so. |
|
|
 | The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti |  |
Better so.
Fast asleep, mine own familiar friend,
Fast asleep at last:
Tho' the pain was strong,
Tho' the struggle long,
It is past;
All thy pangs are at an end.
Fast asleep at last:
Tho' the pain was strong,
Tho' the struggle long,
It is past;
All thy pangs are at an end.
Whilst I weep, whilst death bells toll,
Thou art fast asleep,
With idle hands upon thy breast
And heart at rest:
Whilst I weep
Angels sing around thy singing soul.
Thou art fast asleep,
With idle hands upon thy breast
And heart at rest:
Whilst I weep
Angels sing around thy singing soul.
Who would wish thee back upon the rough
Wearisome dangerous road?
Wish back thy toil-spent soul
Just at the goal?
My soul, praise God
For one dear soul which hath enough.
Wearisome dangerous road?
Wish back thy toil-spent soul
Just at the goal?
My soul, praise God
For one dear soul which hath enough.
I would not fetch thee back to hope with me
A sickening hope deferred,
To taste the cup that slips
From thirsty lips:
Hast thou not heard
What was to hear, and seen what was to see?
A sickening hope deferred,
To taste the cup that slips
From thirsty lips:
Hast thou not heard
What was to hear, and seen what was to see?
I would not speak the word if I could raise
My dead to life:
I would not speak
If I could flush thy cheek
And rouse thy pulses' strife
And send thy feet on the once-trodden ways.
My dead to life:
I would not speak
If I could flush thy cheek
284
And send thy feet on the once-trodden ways.
How could I meet the dear rebuke
If thou should'st say:
“O friend of little faith,
Good was my lot of death,
And good my day
Of rest, and good the sleep I took”—?
If thou should'st say:
“O friend of little faith,
Good was my lot of death,
And good my day
Of rest, and good the sleep I took”—?
| The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti | |