The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti A variorum edition: Edited, with textual notes and introductions, by R. W. Crump |
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“Yet a little while”. |
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 | The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti |  |
“Yet a little while”.
These days are long before I die:
To sit alone upon a thorn
Is what the nightingale forlorn
Does night by night continually;
She swells her heart to extasy
Until it bursts and she can die.
To sit alone upon a thorn
Is what the nightingale forlorn
Does night by night continually;
She swells her heart to extasy
Until it bursts and she can die.
These days are long that wane and wax:
Waxeth and wanes the ghostly moon
Achill and pale in cordial June;
What is it that she wandering lacks?
She seems as one that aches and aches
Most sick to wane most sick to wax.
Waxeth and wanes the ghostly moon
Achill and pale in cordial June;
273
She seems as one that aches and aches
Most sick to wane most sick to wax.
Of all the sad sights in the world
The downfall of an Autumn leaf
Is grievous and suggesteth grief:
Who thought when Spring was fresh unfurled
Of this? when Spring twigs gleamed impearled
Who thought of frost that nips the world?
The downfall of an Autumn leaf
Is grievous and suggesteth grief:
Who thought when Spring was fresh unfurled
Of this? when Spring twigs gleamed impearled
Who thought of frost that nips the world?
There are a hundred subtle stings
To prick us in our daily walk:
A young fruit cankered on its stalk,
A strong bird snared for all his wings,
A nest that sang but never sings;
Yea sight and sound and silence stings.
To prick us in our daily walk:
A young fruit cankered on its stalk,
A strong bird snared for all his wings,
A nest that sang but never sings;
Yea sight and sound and silence stings.
There is a lack in solitude,
There is a load in throng of life;
One with another genders strife,
To be alone yet is not good:
I know but of one neighbourhood
At peace and full; death's solitude.
There is a load in throng of life;
One with another genders strife,
To be alone yet is not good:
I know but of one neighbourhood
At peace and full; death's solitude.
Sleep soundly, dears, who lulled at last
Forget the bird and all her pains,
Forget the moon that waxes, wanes,
The leaf, the sting, the frostful blast;
Forget the troublous years that past
In strife or ache did end at last.
Forget the bird and all her pains,
Forget the moon that waxes, wanes,
The leaf, the sting, the frostful blast;
Forget the troublous years that past
In strife or ache did end at last.
We have clear call of daily bells,
A dimness where the anthems are,
A chancel vault of sky and star,
A thunder if the organ swells:
Alas our daily life—what else?—
Is not in tune with daily bells.
A dimness where the anthems are,
A chancel vault of sky and star,
A thunder if the organ swells:
Alas our daily life—what else?—
Is not in tune with daily bells.
You have deep pause betwixt the chimes
Of earth and heaven, a patient pause
Yet glad with rest by certain laws:
You look and long; while oftentimes
Precursive flush of morning climbs
And air vibrates with coming chimes.
Of earth and heaven, a patient pause
274
You look and long; while oftentimes
Precursive flush of morning climbs
And air vibrates with coming chimes.
| The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti | |