Tag: Christina Georgina Rossetti
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A Better Resurrection
I have no wit, no words, no tears;My heart within me like a stoneIs numb’d too much for hopes or fears;Look right, look left, I dwell alone;I lift mine eyes, but dimm’d with griefNo everlasting hills I see;My life is in the falling leaf:O Jesus, quicken me. My life is like a faded leaf,My harvest…
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Christmas Eve
Christmas has a darknessBrighter than the blazing noon,Christmas has a chillnessWarmer than the heat of June,Christmas has a beautyLovelier than the world can show:For Christmas bringeth Jesus,Brought for us so low. Earth, strike up your music,Birds that sing and bells that ring;Heaven has answering musicFor all angels soon to sing:Earth, put on your whitestBridal robe…
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A Pause for Thought
A Pause for Thought I looked for that which is not, nor can be, And hope deferred made my heart sick in truth: But years must pass before a hope of youth Is resigned utterly. I watched and waited with a steadfast will: And though the object seemed to flee away That I so longed…
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Cousin Kate
Cousin Kate I was a cottage maiden Hardened by sun and air Contented with my cottage mates, Not mindful I was fair. Why did a great lord find me out, And praise my flaxen hair? Why did a great lord find me out, To fill my heart with care? He lured me to his palace…
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Good Friday
Good Friday By Christina Rossetti AM I a stone and not a sheep That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy Cross, To number drop by drop Thy Blood’s slow loss, And yet not weep? Not so those women loved Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee; Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly; Not so the…
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Three Poems for Christmas
All by Christina Rossetti In the Bleak Midwinter In the bleak midwinter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak mid-winter Long ago. Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him Nor earth sustain; Heaven and earth shall flee away…
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Up-hill
Up-Hill Christina Rossetti Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day’s journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from…
Dan Yingst 