“In an Artist’s Studio One face looks out from all his canvases, One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans: We found her hidden just behind those screens, That mirror gave back all her loveliness. A queen in opal or… — Christina Rossetti Copy Share
“He feeds upon her face by day and night, And she with true kind eyes looks back on him, Fair as the moon and joyful as the light: Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is,… — Christina Rossetti Copy Share Image
My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water'd shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent… — Christina Rossetti Copy Share Image
All earth's full rivers can not fillThe sea that drinking thirsteth still. — Christina Rossetti Copy Share Image
And sometimes I remember days of old When fellowship seemed not so far to seek, And all the world and I seemed much less… — Christina Rossetti Copy Share Image
“Fallen from sonship, beggared of grace, Grant me. Father, a servant’s place. ” — Christina Rossetti Copy Share Image
“ Remember Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more, day by day, You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be… — Christina Rossetti Copy Share
We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots? — Christina Rossetti Copy Share Image
“A Robin said: The Spring will never come, And I shall never care to build again. A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome, My sap will never stir for sun or rain. The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow, I neither care to wax nor care to wane. The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago, Because… — Christina Rossetti Copy Share
What can I give Him, Poor as I am? If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb. If I were a Wise… — Christina Rossetti Copy Share Image
Observe this dew-drenched rose of Tyrian gardens A rose today. But you will ask in vain Tomorrow what it is; and yesterday It was… — Christina Rossetti Copy Share Image
Born in a stable, Cradled in a manger, In the world His hands have made, Born a stranger. — Christina Rossetti Copy Share Image
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death; Come back to me in dreams,… — Christina Rossetti Copy Share Image
