Buds And Babies.

A million buds are born that never blow,
That sweet with promise lift a pretty head
To blush and wither on a barren bed
And leave no fruit to show.

Sweet, unfulfilled. Yet have I understood
One joy, by their fragility made plain:
Nothing was ever beautiful in vain,
Or all in vain was good.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Christina Georgina Rossetti was an English poet born on December 5, 1830, and passed away on December 29, 1894. She is best known for her romantic, devotional, and children's poems. Rossetti's works include the famous poem 'Goblin Market' and the Christmas carol 'In the Bleak Midwinter'. A major Victorian poet, her writing often featured themes of love, nature, and spirituality. She was associated with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, as her brother Dante Gabriel Rossetti was one of its founders.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

By The Sea.

Christina Georgina Rossetti, Simple Poetry

The Queen Of Hearts

Christina Georgina Rossetti, Simple Poetry

Death's Chill Between

Christina Georgina Rossetti, Simple Poetry

A Prodigal Son.

Christina Georgina Rossetti, Simple Poetry

English

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There Is A Budding Morrow In Midnight.

Wintry boughs against a wintry sky;
Yet the sky is partly blue
And the clouds are partly bright.
Who can tell but sap is mounting high
Out of sight,
Ready to burst through?

Winter is the mother-nurse of Spring,
Lovely for her daughter's sake.
Not unlovely for her own;
For a future buds in everything
Grown or blown
Or about to break.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Seasons

(Macmillan's Magazine, Dec. 1866.)


Oh the cheerful Budding-time!
    When thorn-hedges turn to green,
When new leaves of elm and lime
    Cleave and shed their winter screen;
Tender lambs are born and 'baa,'
    North wind finds no snow to bring,
Vigorous Nature laughs 'Ha, ha,'
    In the miracle of spring.

Oh the gorgeous Blossom-days!
    When broad flag-flowers drink and blow,
In and out in summer-blaze
    Dragon-flies flash to and fro;
Ashen branches hang out keys,
    Oaks put forth the rosy shoot,
Wandering herds wax sleek at ease,
    Lovely blossoms end in fruit.

Oh the shouting Harvest-weeks!
    Mother earth grown fat with sheaves
Thrifty gleaner finds who seeks;
    Russet-golden pomp of leaves

Christina Georgina Rossetti

To A Rosebud In Humble Life

    Sweet, uncultivated blossom,
    Reared in Spring's refreshing dews,
    Dear to every gazer's bosom,
    Fair to every eye that views;--
    Opening bud, whose youth can charm us,
    Thine be many a happy hour:
    Spreading rose, whose beauties warm us--
    Flourish long, my lovely flower.

    Though pride look disdainful on thee,
    Scorning scenes so mean as thine,
    Although fortune frown upon thee,
    Lovely blossom, ne'er repine:
    Health unbought is ever with thee,
    Which their wealth can never gain;
    Innocence doth garments give thee,
    Such as fashion apes in vain.

    When fit time and reason grant thee
    Leave to quit the parent tree,
    May some happy hand transplant thee
    To a station suiting t...

John Clare

Spring

Frost-locked all the winter,
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,
What shall make their sap ascend
That they may put forth shoots?
Tips of tender green,
Leaf, or blade, or sheath;
Telling of the hidden life
That breaks forth underneath,
Life nursed in its grave by Death.

Blows the thaw-wind pleasantly,
Drips the soaking rain,
By fits looks down the waking sun:
Young grass springs on the plain;
Young leaves clothe early hedgerow trees;
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,
Swollen with sap put forth their shoots;
Curled-headed ferns sprout in the lane;
Birds sing and pair again.

There is no time like Spring,
When life's alive in everything,
Before new nestlings sing,
Before cleft swallows speed their journey back
A...

Christina Georgina Rossetti

An October Garden.

In my Autumn garden I was fain
To mourn among my scattered roses;
Alas for that last rosebud which uncloses
To Autumn's languid sun and rain
When all the world is on the wane!
Which has not felt the sweet constraint of June,
Nor heard the nightingale in tune.

Broad-faced asters by my garden walk,
You are but coarse compared with roses:
More choice, more dear that rosebud which uncloses
Faint-scented, pinched, upon its stalk,
That least and last which cold winds balk;
A rose it is though least and last of all,
A rose to me though at the fall.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Sweet Death

The sweetest blossoms die.
    And so it was that, going day by day
    Unto the church to praise and pray,
And crossing the green churchyard thoughtfully,
    I saw how on the graves the flowers
    Shed their fresh leaves in showers,
And how their perfume rose up to the sky
    Before it passed away.

The youngest blossoms die.
    They die, and fall and nourish the rich earth
    From which they lately had their birth;
Sweet life, but sweeter death that passeth by
    And is as though it had not been: -
    All colors turn to green:
The bright hues vanish, and the odours fly,
    The grass hath lasting worth.

And youth and beauty die.
    So be it, O my God, Thou God of truth:
    Better than beauty and than youth
Are Saints and An...

Christina Georgina Rossetti