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And all winds go sighing For sweet things dying.

Christina Rossetti

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Christina Rossetti
Age: 64 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 5
Died: 1894
Died: December 29
Hymnwriter
Poet
Writer
London
England
Christina Georgina Rossetti
Christina G. Rossetti
Dying
Sweet
Wind
Death
Things
Sighing
Winds
Sigh

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Choose love not in the shallows but in the deep.
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For there is no friend like a sister in calm or stormy weather.
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Tread softly! All the earth is holy ground.
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I have no wit, no words, no tears My heart within me like a stone Is numb'd too much for hopes or fears Look right, look left, I dwell alone I lift mine eyes, but dimm'd with grief No everlasting hills I see My life is in the falling leaf: O Jesus, quicken me.
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Spring's an expansive time: yet I don't trust March with its peck of dust, Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers, Nor even May, whose flowers One frost may wither thro' the sunless hours.
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Come to me in the silence of the night, Come to me in the speaking silence of a dream. Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright as sunlight on a stream. Come back in tears, O memory, hope, love of finished years.
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Open wide the windows of our spirits and fill us full of light open wide the door of our hearts, that we may receive and entertain Thee with all our powers of adoration.
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We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?
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My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water'd shoot My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit.
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Faith is like a lily, lifted high and white.
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Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end.
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To me it seems our duty towards the Bible is to obey its teaching in faith. I do not think we are bound to understand or account for all its utterances.
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Love shall be our token love be yours and love be mine.
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Not as she is, but as she fills his dream
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Can anything be sadder than work left unfinished? Yes, work never begun.
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Be the green grass above me, with showers and dewdrops wet and if thou wilt, remember, and if thou wilt, forget.
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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.
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All earth's full rivers can not fillThe sea that drinking thirsteth still.
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For I am bound with fleshly bands, Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope I strain my heart, I stretch my hands, And catch at hope.
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Christmas hath a darkness Brighter than the blazing noon Christmas hath a chillness Warmer than the heat of June, Christmas hath a beauty Lovelier than the world can show: For Christmas bringeth Jesus, Brought for us so low
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