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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.
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
Hard
Winter
Moan
Made
Stones
Bleak
Long
Travel
January
Like
Poetry
Stood
Wind
Iron
Water
Stone
Nature
Fallen
Midwinter
Earth
Snow
Frosty
More quotes by Christina Rossetti
O Lord, who art our guide even unto death, grant us, I pray Thee, grace to follow Thee whithersoever Thou goest. In little daily duties to which Thou callest us, bow down our wills to simple obedience.
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Love shall be our token love be yours and love be mine.
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The lilies say: Behold how we Preach without words of purity.
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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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The rose saith in the dewy morn, I am most fair Yet all my loveliness is born Upon a thorn.
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Hurt no living thing: Ladybird, nor butterfly, Nor moth with dusty wing.
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Where innocent bright-eyes daisies are With blades of grass between, Each daisy stands up like a star Out of a sky of green.
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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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And may you happy live, And long us bless.
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The downhill path is easy, but there's no turning back.
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Choose love not in the shallows but in the deep.
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Faith is like a lily, lifted high and white.
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Tread softly! All the earth is holy ground.
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Spring bursts today, For love is risen and all the earth's at play.
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I watched a rose-bud very long Brought on by dew and sun and shower, Waiting to see the perfect flower: Then when I thought it should be strong It opened at the matin hour And fell at even-song.
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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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Spring is when life's alive in everything.
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A pin has a head, but has no hair
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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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Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang When life was sweet because you call’d them sweet?
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