Christina Georgina Rossetti

[Christina Rossetti] (5 December 1830 – 29 December 1894 / London)

Christina Georgina Rossetti Poems

281. They Desire A Better Country 4/1/2010
282. Three Little Children 4/1/2010
283. Three Plum Buns 4/1/2010
284. Three Seasons 4/1/2010
285. To My Mother 12/17/2014
286. Twice 1/3/2003
287. Twilight Calm 4/1/2010
288. Twilight Night 4/1/2010
289. Twist Me A Crown Of Wind-Flowers 4/1/2010
290. Under The Ivy Bush 4/1/2010
291. Under The Rose 4/1/2010
292. Uphill 1/4/2003
293. Vanity Of Vanities 6/27/2015
294. Venus's Looking-Glass 4/1/2010
295. Weary In Well-Doing 4/1/2010
296. Wee Wee Husband 4/1/2010
297. What Are Heavy? Sea-Sand And Sorrow 4/1/2010
298. What Do The Stars Do 4/1/2010
299. What Does The Bee Do? 4/1/2010
300. What Does The Donkey Bray About? 4/1/2010
301. What Will You Give Me For My Pound? 4/1/2010
302. What Would I Give 1/3/2003
303. When A Mounting Skylark Sings 4/1/2010
304. When Fishes Set Umbrellas Up 4/1/2010
305. When I Am Dead, My Dearest 1/3/2003
306. When The Cows Come Home The Milk Is Coming 4/1/2010
307. Where Innocent Bright-Eyed Daisies Are 4/1/2010
308. Who Has Seen The Wind? 1/3/2003
309. Who Hath Despised The Day Of Small Things? 4/1/2010
310. Who Shall Deliver Me? 1/3/2003
311. Why Did Baby Die? 4/1/2010
312. Wife To Husband 4/1/2010
313. Winter Rain 4/1/2010
314. Winter: My Secret 1/3/2003
315. Within The Veil 4/1/2010
316. Wrens And Robins In The Hedge 4/1/2010
317. Your Brother Has A Falcon 4/1/2010
Best Poem of Christina Georgina Rossetti


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 plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
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 ...

Read the full of Remember


It is a land with neither night nor day,
Nor heat nor cold, nor any wind, nor rain,
Nor hills nor valleys; but one even plain
Stretches thro' long unbroken miles away:
While thro' the sluggish air a twilight grey
Broodeth; no moons or seasons wax and wane,
No ebb and flow are there among the main,
No bud-time no leaf-falling there for aye,
No ripple on the sea, no shifting sand,

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