Christina Georgina Rossetti

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

Christina Georgina Rossetti Poems

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

The Convent Threshold

There's blood between us, love, my love,
There's father's blood, there's brother's blood,
And blood's a bar I cannot pass.
I choose the stairs that mount above,
Stair after golden sky-ward stair,
To city and to sea of glass.
My lily feet are soiled with mud,
With scarlet mud which tells a tale
Of hope that was, of guilt that was,

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