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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
Sweet
Wind
Death
Things
Sighing
Winds
Sigh
Dying

More quotes by Christina Rossetti

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Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end.
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The Bourne Underneath the growing grass, Underneath the living flowers, Deeper than the sound of showers: There we shall not count the hours By the shadows as they pass. Youth and health will be but vain, Beauty reckoned of no worth: There a very little girth Can hold round what once the earth Seemed too narrow to contain.
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As a tree my sin stands To darken all lands Death is the fruit it bore.
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The loves that meet in Paradise shall cast out fear, And Paradise hath room for you and me and all.
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Why one day in the country Is worth a month in town Is worth a day and a year Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion That days drone elsewhere.
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When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me
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What is pink? A rose is pink By the fountain's brink.
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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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Can anything be sadder than work left unfinished? Yes, work never begun.
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A pin has a head, but has no hair
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Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.
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The downhill path is easy, but there's no turning back.
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The rose saith in the dewy morn, I am most fair Yet all my loveliness is born Upon a thorn.
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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 midwinter, Long ago.
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Where are the songs I used to know, Where are the notes I used to sing? I have forgotten everything I used to know so long ago. (The Key-Note)
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My heart is like a singing bird.
Christina Rossetti
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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.
Christina Rossetti
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Tread softly! All the earth is holy ground.
Christina Rossetti
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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.
Christina Rossetti
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Consider The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:-- We are as they Like them we fade away As doth a leaf.
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