The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti A variorum edition: Edited, with textual notes and introductions, by R. W. Crump |
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Annie. |
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 | The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti |  |
Annie.
Annie is fairer than her kith
And kinder than her kin;
Her eyes are like the open heaven
Holy and pure from sin;
Her heart is like an ordered house
Good fairies harbour in;
Oh happy he who wins the love
That I can never win.
And kinder than her kin;
Her eyes are like the open heaven
Holy and pure from sin;
Her heart is like an ordered house
Good fairies harbour in;
Oh happy he who wins the love
That I can never win.
Her sisters stand as hyacinths
Around the perfect rose:
They bloom and open to the full,
My bud will scarce unclose;
They are for every butterfly
That comes and sips and goes,
My bud hides in the tender green
Most sweet and hardly shows.
Around the perfect rose:
They bloom and open to the full,
My bud will scarce unclose;
They are for every butterfly
That comes and sips and goes,
My bud hides in the tender green
Most sweet and hardly shows.
Oh cruel kindness in soft eyes
That are no more than kind,
On which I gaze my heart away
Till the tears make me blind.
How is it others find the way
That I can never find
To make her laugh that sweetest laugh
Which leaves all else behind?
That are no more than kind,
On which I gaze my heart away
Till the tears make me blind.
196
That I can never find
To make her laugh that sweetest laugh
Which leaves all else behind?
Her hair is like the golden corn
A low wind breathes upon;
Or like the golden harvest moon
When all the mists are gone;
Or like a stream with golden sands
On which the sun has shone
Day after day in summer time
Ere autumn leaves are wan.
A low wind breathes upon;
Or like the golden harvest moon
When all the mists are gone;
Or like a stream with golden sands
On which the sun has shone
Day after day in summer time
Ere autumn leaves are wan.
I will not tell her that I love
Lest she should turn away
With sorrow in her tender heart
Which now is light and gay.
I will not tell her that I love
Lest she should turn and say
That we must meet no more again
For many a weary day.
Lest she should turn away
With sorrow in her tender heart
Which now is light and gay.
I will not tell her that I love
Lest she should turn and say
That we must meet no more again
For many a weary day.
| The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti | |