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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)

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
Song
Used
Everything
Note
Long
Notes
Sing
Forgotten
Keys
Songs

More quotes by Christina Rossetti

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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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Love shall be our token love be yours and love be mine.
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Tread softly! All the earth is holy ground.
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The downhill path is easy, but there's no turning back.
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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
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Hurt no living thing: Ladybird, nor butterfly, Nor moth with dusty wing.
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What is pink? A rose is pink By the fountain's brink.
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And all winds go sighing For sweet things dying.
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My heart is like a singing bird.
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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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The rose saith in the dewy morn, I am most fair Yet all my loveliness is born Upon a thorn.
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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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For there is no friend like a sister in calm or stormy weather.
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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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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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Can anything be sadder than work left unfinished? Yes, work never begun.
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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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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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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 loves that meet in Paradise shall cast out fear, And Paradise hath room for you and me and all.
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