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Friday, July 31, 2015

Poems by Christina Rossetti with Illustrations by Florence Harrison, 2nd Part





But not so soon are still the noisy crows



Come with me, fair and false,
To our home, come home


The fisher folk would give a kind strange word to me

Margaret, won't you even look at me?

I like the proud ones best

Of course the village girls,
Who envy me my curls
And gowns and idleness,
Take comfort in a jeer


Meggan piped a merry note

He stood up like a royal man
And claimed her for his bride.



A shadowless spirit kept the gate



In a field or tree there might only such a warm soft sleeping -place found  for me

I wish you were a pleasant wren,
And I your small accepted mate.






From the other world I come back to you.






Winter is cold-hearted


In the room centre stood her husband


Perhaps in farmhouse of her own some husband keeps her cosy.


A summer friend has fled.


Jessie, Jessie Cameron,
Hear me but tis once, quoth he.



Thus she sat weeping,
Thus Eve our mother,
Where one lay sleeping
Slain by his brother


I'm Lady of the Manor now.



Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.


And youth and beauty die


















But sister Maude, oh sister Maude!
Bide you with death and sin


And for your love, my sister dove, I frayed the thief away.



Strike the bells wantonly,
Tinkle tinkle well





I passed from the familiar room,
I who from love had passed away.


Give me the withered leaves I chose before in the old time.

Love, strong as Death, is dead.


Two lilies on a single stem



Young love lies drowsing away to poppied death


"There should be one card more," you said


"I went too far", she said; spoke low; "forgive me, dear."

And went to the garden-walks.



My castle stood of white transparent glass,
Glittering and frail with many a fretted spire,
But when the summer sunset came to pass,
It kindled into fire.

I lit my candle searched from room to room

She stood on inner ground that budded flowers.



Pale spirits, waiting for an overthrow


As in a soft wind, they
Bend all in blessed way.