Christina Rossetti was born in 1830 in London, England. She is the best poet of her time. For those who love beauty, be it nature, flowers, music, flowing waves, fading evening, beloved, dance اand dew Rossetti poetry is the best source for further enjoyment. . Rossetti passed away in 1894, but her beautiful poetry will live on and be enjoyed by people.
Table of Contents
Dream Land
Poet: Christina Rossetti
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn.
She left the fields of corn.
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
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, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart’s core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break,
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
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Afterwards
Poet: Christina Rossetti
We know not when, we know not where,
We know not what that world will be;
But this we know: it will be fair
To see.
With heart athirst and thirsty face
We know and know not what shall be:
Christ Jesus bring us of His grace
To see.
Christ Jesus bring us of His grace,
Beyond all prayers our hope can pray,
One day to see Him face to Face,
One day.
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And Now Why Tarriest Thou?
Poet: Christina Rossetti
Lord, grant us grace to mount by steps of grace
From grace to grace nearer, my God, to Thee;
Not tarrying for to-morrow,
Lest we lie down in sorrow
And never see
Unveiled Thy Face.
Life is a vapour vanishing in haste;
Life is a day whose sun grows pale to set;
Life is a stint and sorrow,
One day and not the morrow;
Precious, while yet
It runs to waste.
Lord, strengthen us; lest fainting by the way
We come not to Thee, we who come from far;
Lord, bring us to that morrow
Which makes an end of sorrow,
Where all saints are
On holy day.
Where all the saints rest who have heard Thy call,
Have risen and striven and now rejoice in rest:
Call us too home from sorrow
To rest in Thee to-morrow;
In Thee our Best,
In Thee our All.
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Not I, But He
Poet: Christina Rossetti
Lord Jesus, who would think that I am Thine?
Ah! who would think,
Who sees me ready to turn back or sink,
That Thou art mine?
I cannot hold Thee fast tho’ Thou art mine:
Hold Thou me fast,
So earth shall know at last and heaven at last
That I am Thine.
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Unseen Companions
Poet: Christina Rossetti
Lord, make me one with Thine own faithful ones;
Thy Saints who love Thee and are loved by Thee;
Till the day break and till the shadows flee,
At one with them in alms and orisons;
At one with him who toils and him who runs,
And him who yearns for union yet to be;
At one with all who throng the crystal sea,
And wait the setting of our moons and suns.
Ah, my beloved ones gone on before,
Who looked not back with hand upon the plough!
If beautiful to me while still in sight,
How beautiful must be your aspects now;
Your unknown, well-known aspects in that light
Which clouds shall never cloud for evermore!
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Charity
Poet: Christina Rossetti
I praised the myrtle and the rose,
At sunrise in their beauty lying:
I passed them at the short day’s close.
And both were dying.
The summer sun his rays was throwing
Brightly: yet ere I sought my rest
His last cold ray, more deeply glowing,
Died in the west.
After this bleak world’s stormy weather,
All, all, save Love alone, shall die;
For Faith and Hope shall merge together
In Charity.
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Song
Poet: Christina Rossetti
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.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
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A Christmas Carol
Poet: Christina Rossetti
The Shepherds had an Angel,
The Wise Men had a star.
But what have I, a little child,
To guide me home from far,
Where glad stars sing together
And singing angels are? —
Lord Jesus is my Guardian,
So I can nothing lack:
The lambs lie in His bosom
Along life’s dangerous track:
The wilful lambs that go astray
He bleeding fetches back.
Lord Jesus is my guiding star,
My beacon-light in heaven:
He leads me step by step along
The path of life uneven:
He, true light, leads me to that land
Whose day shall be as seven.
Those Shepherds through the lonely night
Sat watching by their sheep,
Until they saw the heavenly host
Who neither tire nor sleep,
All singing “Glory glory”
In festival they keep.
Christ watches me. His little lamb,
Cares for me day and night.
That I may be His own in heaven:
So angels clad in white
Shall sing their “Glory glory”
For my sake in the height.
The Wise Men left their country
To journey morn by morn.
With gold and frankincense and myrrh,
Because the Lord was born:
God sent a star to guide them
And sent a dream to warn.
My life is like their journey.
Their star is like God’s book;
I must be like those good Wise Men
With heavenward heart and look:
But shall I give no gifts to God? —
What precious gifts they took!
Lord, I will give my love to Thee,
Than gold much costlier,
Sweeter to Thee than frankincense,
More prized than choicest myrrh:
Lord, make me dearer day by day,
Day by day holier;
Nearer and dearer day by day:
Till I my voice unite,
And sing my “Glory glory “
With angels clad in white;
All “Glory glory” given to Thee
Through all the heavenly height.
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Consider The Lilies Of The Field
Poet: Christina Rossetti
Flowers preach to us if we will hear: —
The rose saith in the dewy morn:
“I am most fair;
Yet all my loveliness is born
Upon a thorn.”
The poppy saith amid the corn:
“Let but my scarlet head appear
And I am held in scorn;
Yet juice of subtle virtue lies
Within my cup of curious dyes.”
The lilies say: ” Behold how we
Preach without words of purity.”
The violets whisper from the shade
Which their own leaves have made:
“Men scent our fragrance on the air.
Yet take no heed
Of humble lessons we would read.”
But not alone the fairest flowers:
The merest grass
Along the roadside where we pass.
Lichen and moss and sturdy weed.
Tell of His love who sends the dew,
The rain and sunshine too.
To nourish one small seed.
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A Birthday
Poet: Christina Rossetti
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a watered shoot:
My heart is like an apple tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.
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Patience
Poet: Christina Rossetti
Lie still, my restive heart, lie still:
God’s Word to thee saith “Wait and bear.”
The good which He appoints is good.
The good which He denies were ill:
Yea, subtle comfort is thy care.
Thy hurt a help not understood.
“Friend, go up higher,” to one: to one,
“Friend, enter thou My joy,” He saith;
To one, “Be faithful unto death.”
For some a wilderness doth flower,
Or day’s work in one hour is done: –
“But thou, couldst thou not watch one hour?”
Lord, I had chosen another lot,
But then I had not chosen well;
Thy choice and only Thine is good:
No different lot, search heaven or hell,
Had blessed me, fully understood.
None other; which Thou orderest not.
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The Goal In Sight
Poet: Christina Rossetti
The Goal in sight! Look up and sing,
‘Set faces full against the light,
Welcome with rapturous welcoming
The Goal in sight.
Let be the left, let be the right:
Straight forward make your footsteps ring
A loud alarum thro’ the night.
Death hunts you, yea, but reft of sting;
Your bed is green, your shroud is white:
Hail! Life and Death and all that bring
The Goal in sight.
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Love Is Strong As Death
Poet: Christina Rossetti
“I have not sought Thee, I have not found Thee,
I have not thirsted for Thee:
And now cold billows of death surround me,
Bulleting billows of death astound me, –
Wilt Thou look upon, wilt Thou see
Thy perishing me?”
“Yea, I have sought thee, yea, I have found thee.
Yea, I have thirsted for thee.
Yea, long ago with love’s bands I bound thee:
Now the Everlasting Arms surround thee, —
Through death’s darkness I look and see
And clasp thee to Me.”
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My Garden Bed
Poet: Christina Rossetti
Heartsease in my garden bed,
With sweetwilliam white and red.
Honeysuckle on my wall:
Heartsease blossoms in my heart
When sweet William comes to call;
But it withers when we part.
And the honey-trumpets fall.
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Come Back To Me
Poet: Christina Rossetti
Come back to me, who wait and watch for you: –
Or come not yet, for it is over then,
And long it is before you come again,
So far between my pleasures are and few.
While, when you come not, what I do I do
Thinking, “Now when he comes,” my sweetest “when”:
For one man is my world of all the men
This wide world holds; O love, my world is you.
Howbeit, to meet you grows almost a pang
Because the pang of parting comes so soon;
My hope hangs waning, waxing, like a moon
Between the heavenly days on which we meet:
Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang
When life was sweet because you called them sweet?
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