Christina Rossetti Quotes
1830–1894 England
Christina Georgina Rossetti (December 5, 1830 – December 29, 1894) was an English poet and the sister of artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
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Also known as: Christina G. Rossetti, Christina Georgina Rossetti, Rossetti, Christina, Rossetti, Christina Georgina
Random Christina Rossetti quote
37 quotes
The lilies say: Behold how we
Preach without words of purity.
Somewhere or other there must surely be
The face not seen, the voice not heard,
The heart that not yet—never yet—ah me!
Made answer to my word.
There is no music more for him:
His lights are out, his feast is done;
His bowl that sparkled to the brim
Is drained, is broken, cannot hold.
Oh Lord, make thy law, I entreat thee, our delight.
This life is but the passage of a day,
This life is but a pang and all is over;
But in the life to come which fades not away
Every love shall abide and every lover.
In the bleak mid-winter
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.
For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands.
O, roses for the flush of youth,
And laurel for the perfect prime;
But pluck an ivy branch for me,
Grown old before my time.
I have a room whereinto no one enters
Save I myself alone:
There sits a blessed memory on a throne,
* There my life centres.
A sapphire shines as blue as heaven
Enough for Him whom Cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay
You're good for Madge or good for Cis
Or good for Kate, maybe:
But what's to me the good of this
While you're not good for me?
Hope is like a harebell, trembling from its birth,
Love is like a rose, the joy of all the earth,
Faith is like a lily, lifted high and white,
Love is like a lovely rose, the world’s delight.
Harebells and sweet lilies show a thornless growth,
But the rose with all its thorns excels them both.
Consider
The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:—
We are as they;
Like them we fade away
As doth a leaf.
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.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Hurt no living thing:
Ladybird nor butterfly,
Nor moth with dusty wing,
Nor cricket cheering cheerily,
Nor grasshopper so light of leap,
Nor dancing gnat, nor beetle fat,
Nor harmless worms that creep.
Sing-Song: A Nursery Rhyme Book (1915)