Three Seasons

    'A cup for hope!' she said,
In springtime ere the bloom was old:
The crimson wine was poor and cold
    By her mouth's richer red.

    'A cup for love!' how low,
How soft the words; and all the while
Her blush was rippling with a smile
    Like summer after snow.

    'A cup for memory!'
Cold cup that one must drain alone:
While autumn winds are up and moan
    Across the barren sea.

    Hope, memory, love:
Hope for fair morn, and love for day,
And memory for the evening grey
    And solitary dove.

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

A Portrait

Christina Georgina Rossetti, Simple Poetry

Light Love

Christina Georgina Rossetti, Simple Poetry

What Would I Give?

Christina Georgina Rossetti, Simple Poetry

Mary Magdalene And The Other Mary.

Christina Georgina Rossetti, Simple Poetry

English

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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

Bitter For Sweet

Summer is gone with all its roses,
    Its sun and perfumes and sweet flowers,
    Its warm air and refreshing showers:
    And even Autumn closes.

Yea, Autumn's chilly self is going,
    And winter comes which is yet colder;
    Each day the hoar-frost waxes bolder,
    And the last buds cease blowing.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Grown And Flown

I loved my love from green of Spring
    Until sere Autumn's fall;
But now that leaves are withering
    How should one love at all?
    One heart's too small
For hunger, cold, love, everything.

I loved my love on sunny days
    Until late Summer's wane;
But now that frost begins to glaze
    How should one love again?
    Nay, love and pain
Walk wide apart in diverse ways.

I loved my love - alas to see
    That this should be, alas!
I thought that this could scarcely be,
    Yet has it come to pass:
    Sweet sweet love was,
Now bitter bitter grown to me.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Summer

Winter is cold-hearted
    Spring is yea and nay,
Autumn is a weather-cock
    Blown every way:
Summer days for me
When every leaf is on its tree;

When Robin's not a beggar,
    And Jenny Wren's a bride,
And larks hang singing, singing, singing,
    Over the wheat-fields wide,
    And anchored lilies ride,
And the pendulum spider
    Swings from side to side,

And blue-black beetles transact business,
    And gnats fly in a host,
And furry caterpillars hasten
    That no time be lost,
And moths grow fat and thrive,
And ladybirds arrive.

Before green apples blush,
    Before green nuts embrown,
Why, one day in the country
    Is worth a month in town;
    Is worth a day and a year
Of the dusty, musty, lag...

Christina Georgina Rossetti

The First Spring Day

I wonder if the sap is stirring yet,
If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,
If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun
And crocus fires are kindling one by one:
    Sing, robin, sing;
I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring.

I wonder if the springtide of this year
Will bring another Spring both lost and dear;
If heart and spirit will find out their Spring,
Or if the world alone will bud and sing:
    Sing, hope, to me;
Sweet notes, my hope, soft notes for memory.

The sap will surely quicken soon or late,
The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate;
So Spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom,
Or in this world, or in the world to come:
    Sing, voice of Spring,
Till I too blossom and rejoice and sing.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Light Love

'Oh, sad thy lot before I came,
    But sadder when I go;
My presence but a flash of flame,
    A transitory glow
    Between two barren wastes like snow.
What wilt thou do when I am gone,
    Where wilt thou rest, my dear?
For cold thy bed to rest upon,
    And cold the falling year
    Whose withered leaves are lost and sere.'

She hushed the baby at her breast,
    She rocked it on her knee:
'And I will rest my lonely rest,
    Warmed with the thought of thee,
    Rest lulled to rest by memory.'
She hushed the baby with her kiss,
    She hushed it with her breast:
'Is death so sadder much than this -
    Sure death that builds a nest
    For those who elsewhere cannot rest?'

'Oh, sad thy note, my mateless dove,
    With t...

Christina Georgina Rossetti