Quote

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death Come back to me in dreams, that I may give Pulse for pulse, breath for breath: Speak low, lean low, As long ago, my love, how 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
Life
Give
Breaths
May
Lows
Back
Dreams
Live
Cold
Come
Though
Giving
Speak
Lean
Long
Death
Pulse
Love
Dream
Breath

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Why does the sea moan evermore? Shut out from heaven it makes its moan, It frets against the boundary shore All earth's full rivers cannot fill The sea, that drinking thirsteth still.
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Rest, rest at the heart's core . . . till joy shall overtake.
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Faith is like a lily, lifted high and white.
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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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Choose love not in the shallows but in the deep.
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Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end.
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She cried, Laura, up the garden, Did you miss me? Come and kiss me. Never mind my bruises, Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices Squeezed from goblin fruits for you, Goblin pulp and goblin dew. Eat me, drink me, love me Laura, make much of me For your sake I have braved the glen And had to do with goblin merchant men.
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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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I wish I could remember the first day, First hour, first moment of your meeting me If bright or dim the season it might be Summer or winter for aught I can say. So, unrecorded did it slip away, So blind was i to see and to forsee, So dull to mark the budding of my tree That would not blossom, yet, for many a May.
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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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Oh roses for the flush of youth, And laurel for the perfect prime But pluck an ivy branch for me Grown old before my time.
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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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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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Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me.
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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.
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Christmas hath a beauty ... lovelier than the world can show.
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A pin has a head, but has no hair
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It is not the deed we do Though the deed be never so fair, But the love that the dear Lord looketh for, Hidden with lovely care In the heart of the deed so fair.
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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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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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