You left us beautiful memories, Your love is still our guide, And though we cannot see you, You are always at our side. Standing with the crystal water behind us, a fresh sea breeze cooling the heat, this face materialised in front of me. The Darker the Night The darker the night, The brighter the stars, The deeper the grief, The closer is God. By reiteration and accretion the passing months, the progression of seasons, and blooming and fading flowers become poignant and nostalgic symbols of the process of aging. And when you hear a song or see a bird I loved, Please do not let the thought of me be sad… For I am loving you just as I always have… You were so good to me! The breakdown has mystified biographers, some of whom have surmised that the physical symptoms were psychosomatic and rescued Rossetti from having to make a financial contribution to the family by working as a governess like her mother and sister. When through the woods and forest glades I wander And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees, When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur, And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze: Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee: How great thou art! Critical of slavery, imperialism, and military aggression, she was most passionately committed to the antivivisection movement, at one point breaking with the S.
After rejecting Cayley in 1866, according one biographer, Christina like many Victorian spinsters lived vicariously in the lives of other people. Although we were four people deep waiting to be served, I left my husband to deal with them all and chased after the lady, still not entirely sure she was real. Rossetti's brother, William Michael, edited her collected works in 1904, but the Complete Poems were not published before 1979. But not farewell To all my fondest thoughts of Thee; Within my heart they still shall dwell And they shall cheer and comfort me. . So Go and Run Free So go and run free with the angels Dance around the golden clouds For the lord has chosen you to be with him And we should feel nothing but proud Although he has taken you from us And our pain a lifetime will last Your memory will never escape us But make us glad for the time we did have Your face will always be hidden Deep inside our hearts Each precious moment you gave us Shall never, ever depart So go and run free with the angels As they sing so tenderly And please be sure to tell them To take good care of you for me Anonymous 70. They are not long, the days of wine and roses: Out of a misty dream Our path emerges for awhile, then closes Within a dream.
Henry Van Dyke 1852-1933 28. No wound so deep will ever go Entirely away; Yet every hurt becomes A little less from day to day. When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. The storm may roar without me, my heart may low be laid, But God is round about me, and can I be dismayed? I am the soft stars that shine at night. In these devotional writings readers can find explicit statements of themes treated in the poetry of previous decades, and in many instances Rossetti discusses natural and biblical images, virtually glossing favorite poetic symbols. The earth shall soon dissolve like snow, The sun forbear to shine; But God, who called me here below, Will be forever mine.
In 1850, under the pseudonym Ellen Alleyne, she contributed seven poems to the Pre-Raphaelite journal The Germ, which had been founded by her brother William Michael and his friends. I could have sat there for hours… but Hubby was sending worried looks across, between customers. 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. Maria and William also took employment, Maria as a nursery governess and William in the civil service. For they must needs be present, that love and live in that which is ominipresent. Augustine, or moralistic tales such as those by Maria Edgeworth. Not, what did he gain, but what did he give? All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood.
787. Remember. Christina Georgina Rossetti. The Oxford Book of English Verse
It is constantly on our minds. Let love melt into memory and pain into songs. Some critics have questioned the appropriateness of these darker themes for the intended audience. O but he was fair as a garden in flower, As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower, When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart; 'O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey': But he frowned like thunder and he went away. In March 1874 William married Lucy Brown, daughter of the painter Ford Madox Brown.
Consolatio: Christina Rossetti: Remember me when I am gone away
Miss me a little, but not for long, And not with your head bowed low. 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. The leaves may fall, And flowers may fade and pass away— They only wait, through wintry hours, The warm, sweet breath of May. Life seems more sweet that Thou didst live And men more true Thou wert one; Nothing is lost that Thou didst give, Nothing destroyed that Thou hast done. Composing your own memorial poetry is a wonderful excercise which helps you work through and express your grief and love, but rare is the person who can craft words to say exactly what they want to say. Now will you give him all your love, Not think the labour vain, Nor hate Me when I come to call And take him back again. I, too, had a very passionate temper; but I learnt to control it.
Gabriele Rossetti died on 26 April 1854. Religious issues play a central role in the story when Maude suffers a spiritual crisis, and Anglo-Catholic practices are described as she discusses with her cousins the heavily symbolic lectern cover they are embroidering, the question of a vocation as a nun, and the Eucharist. Christina Rossetti has been compared to but the similarity is more in the choice of spiritual topics than in poetic approach, Rossetti working within the forms established in her time. And safe in such confiding, for nothing changes here. The poems, and others composed at this time but not published until later, show that Rossetti had by then attained her mature poetic style, in which pain, loss, and resignation are expressed in diction and images that strike the reader as simple, perfect, and effortless.
