Christina Georgina Rossetti

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

Christina Georgina Rossetti Poems

41. After Death 4/1/2010
42. After This The Judgement 4/1/2010
43. All The Bells Were Ringing 4/1/2010
44. Aloof 1/4/2003
45. Amen 4/1/2010
46. Amor Mundi 4/1/2010
47. An Apple-Gathering 1/3/2003
48. An Echo From Willowood 4/1/2010
49. An Emerald Is As Green As Grass 4/1/2010
50. An End 4/1/2010
51. An October Garden 4/1/2010
52. Angels At The Foot 4/1/2010
53. Another Spring 4/1/2010
54. At Home 12/31/2002
55. Autumn 4/1/2010
56. Autumn Violets 4/1/2010
57. Baby Cry 4/1/2010
58. Baby Lies So Fast Asleep 4/1/2010
59. Beauty Is Vain 4/1/2010
60. Before The Paling Of The Stars 1/3/2003
61. Beneath Thy Cross 1/3/2003
62. Bird Or Beast? 4/1/2010
63. Bird Raptures 4/1/2010
64. Bitter For Sweet 4/1/2010
65. Blind From My Birth 4/1/2010
66. Boats Sail On The Rivers 4/1/2010
67. Bread And Milk For Breakfast 4/1/2010
68. Bride Song 1/4/2003
69. Brown And Furry 4/1/2010
70. Brownie, Brownie, Let Down Your Milk 4/1/2010
71. By The Sea 1/3/2003
72. By The Waters Of Babylon 4/1/2010
73. Child's Talk In April 4/1/2010
74. Christian And Jew 4/1/2010
75. Christmas Eve 12/14/2015
76. Clever Little Willie Wee 4/1/2010
77. Clouds 4/6/2015
78. Cobwebs 1/3/2003
79. Color 4/1/2010
80. Come Unto Me 4/1/2010
Best Poem of Christina Georgina Rossetti

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 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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