Christina Georgina Rossetti Poem by Hannington Mumo

I read a number of your poems,
One called Song and another Remember;
Never had my nerves been pleasured so;
Nothing had ever so soothingly calmed my temper.


Few of your gender could have so dearly loved this great art,
And though the Muse no doubt played its part,
I honor your zeal and enthusiasm unrivaled;
And skill and finesse to at which the average marveled.


I trudge along the same path a century and years later,
I know not how such a fine talent you sharpened,
Nor how aptly your words you chose,
Not even how to lame rhyme oppose.


I shall not weep for you dearest,
Now that you are dead and gone to that distant land,
Nor sing you sad songs that outcast minions interest;
And upon your grave I shall place no roses, nor plant a cursed cypress tree.