Christina Georgina Rossetti

(5 December 1830 – 29 December 1894 / London)

Cobwebs


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,
No beat of wings to stir the stagnant space,
And loveless sea: no trace of days before,
No guarded home, no time-worn restingplace
No future hope no fear forevermore.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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  • Dom Wisperez (7/1/2007 9:14:00 PM)

    what a desolate plain of despair. i wish not to step foot in such wrechidness. well put. (Report) Reply

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