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Quotes by Christina G. Rossetti
C. O, roses for the flush of youth, And laurel for the perfect prime; But pluck an ivy branch for me Grown old before my time.— filed under Affliction
Thessaly. O happy skylark springing Up to the broad, blue sky, Too fearless in thy winging, Too gladsome in thy singing, Thou also soon shalt lie Where no sweet notes are ringing.— filed under Birds-Lark
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing.— filed under Birds-Lark
Sonnet XLIII. Hark! that's the nightingale, Telling the self-same tale Her song told when this ancient earth was young: So echoes answered when her song was sung In the first wooded vale.— filed under Birds-Nightingale
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing, The moonrise wakes the nightingale. Come, darkness, moonrise, everything That is so silent, sweet, and pale: Come, so ye wake the nightingale.— filed under Birds-Nightingale
Pigeon. Wood-pigeons cooed there, stock-doves nestled there; My trees were full of songs and flowers and fruit, Their branches spread a city to the air.— filed under Birds-Pelican
It's surely summer, for there's a swallow: Come one swallow, his mate will follow, The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken.— filed under Birds-Swallow
There goes the swallow, - Could we but follow! Hasty swallow, stay, Point us out the way; Look back swallow, turn back swallow, stop swallow.— filed under Birds-Swallow
There the thrushes Sing till latest sunlight fiushes In the west.— filed under Birds-Thrush
Clouds on the western side Grow gray and grayer, hiding the warm sun.— filed under Clouds
Sleep that no pain shall wake, Night that no morn shall break, Till joy shall overtake Her perfect peace.— filed under Death
There is no music more for him: His lights are out, his feast is done; His bowl that sparkled to the brim Is drained, is broken, cannot hold.— filed under Death
Bells. When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, No shady cypress tree.— filed under Death
Oh blindness to the future! kindly given, That each may fill the circle mark'd by heav'n; Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall. Pope-Essay on Man. Ep. I. L. 85. We met, hand to hand, We clasped hands close and fast, As close as oak and ivy stand; But it is past: Come day, come night, day comes at last.— filed under Destiny
Spring bursts to-day, For Christ is risen and all the earth's at play.— filed under Easter
One by one the flowers close, Lily and dewy rose Shutting their tender petals from the moon.— filed under Evening
Flowers preach to us if we will hear.— filed under Flirting
Let but my scarlet head appear And I am held in scorn; Yet juice of subtile virtue lies Within my cup of curious dyes,— filed under Flowers-Poppy
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.— filed under Flowers-Rose
C. The rose saith in the dewy morn, I am most fair; Yet all my loveliness is born Upon a thorn.— filed under Flowers-Rose
The violets whisper from the shade Which their own leaves have made: Men scent our fragrance on the air, Yet take no heed Of humble lessons we would read.— filed under Flowers-Violet
Our hopes, like tow'ring falcons, aim At objects in an airy height; The little pleasure of the game Is from afar to view the flight. 0. PRIOR TO Hon. Chas. Montague. Hope dead lives nevermore, No, not in heaven.— filed under Hope
This life is but the passage of a day, This life is but a pang and all is over; But in the life to come which fades not away Every love shall abide and every lover.— filed under Life
Time is short, life is short. Life is sweet, love is sweet, use to-day while With oaths of love. you may; Love is sweet, and to-morrow may fail; Love is sweet, use to-day.— filed under Love
I have a room whereinto no one enters Save I myself alone: There sits a blessed memory on a throne, There my life centres.— filed under Memory
I wept for memory. C.— filed under Memory
In the parching August wind, Cornfields bow the head, Sheltered in round valley depths, On low hills outspread.— filed under Months-July
Monuments. Consider The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:- We are as they; Like them we fade away As doth a leaf.— filed under Motherhood
The lilies say: Behold how we Preach without words of purity.— filed under Occupations-Preaching
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.— filed under Ocean
Paradise and S. the Peri. The loves that meet in Paradise shall cast out fear, And Paradise hath room for you and me and all.— filed under Paradise
We shall escape the uphill by never turning back.— filed under Philosophy
Consider The sparrows of the air of small account: Our God doth view Whether they fall or mount, - He guards us too.— filed under Providence
They praise my rustling show, and never see My heart is breaking for a little love.— filed under Sadness
I wonder if the sap is stirring yet, If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate, If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun, And crocus fires are kindling one by one.— filed under Sculpture
There is no time like Spring, When life's alive in everything, Before new nestlings sing, Before cleft swallows speed their journey back Along the trackless track.— filed under Sculpture
Summer. Before green apples blush, Before green nuts embrown, Why, one day in the country Is worth a month in town.— filed under Sows
It's surely summer, for there's a swallow: Come one swallow, his mate will follow, The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken.— filed under Sows
Summer. Autumn is a weathercock Blown every way.— filed under Sows
Somewhere or other there must surely be The face not seen, the voice not heard, The heart that not yet- never yet-ah me! Made answer to my word.— filed under Talk
S. Song-Book. Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? Those who have gone before. Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? They will not keep you standing at that door.— filed under Welcome
You're good for Madge or good for Cis Or good for Kate, maybe: But what's to me the good of this While you're not good for me?— filed under Gossip
Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend.— filed under Travelling