Christina Georgina Rossetti

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

Christina Georgina Rossetti Poems

281. Monna Innominata: A Sonnet Of Sonnets 1/3/2003
282. In The Bleak Midwinter 4/1/2010
283. Rest 1/4/2003
284. Before The Paling Of The Stars 1/3/2003
285. De Profundis 12/31/2002
286. Sappho 1/3/2003
287. At Home 12/31/2002
288. From The Antique 1/3/2003
289. The Convent Threshold 1/3/2003
290. Who Shall Deliver Me? 1/3/2003
291. By The Sea 1/3/2003
292. What Would I Give 1/3/2003
293. The First Day 1/3/2003
294. Cobwebs 1/3/2003
295. Beneath Thy Cross 1/3/2003
296. Spring Quiet 1/3/2003
297. Maude Clare 3/16/2003
298. Winter: My Secret 1/3/2003
299. Silent Noon 1/3/2003
300. Cousin Kate 1/3/2003
301. Goblin Market 12/31/2002
302. Mirage 1/3/2003
303. A Baby's Cradle With No Baby In It 4/1/2010
304. Promises Like Pie-Crust 1/3/2003
305. Bride Song 1/4/2003
306. Sleeping At Last 1/3/2003
307. No, Thank You John 1/3/2003
308. An Apple-Gathering 1/3/2003
309. A Pause 1/3/2003
310. Song 12/31/2002
311. A Study (A Soul) 1/3/2003
312. A Better Ressurection 1/3/2003
313. Who Has Seen The Wind? 1/3/2003
314. From Sunset To Star Rise 1/3/2003
315. A Daughter Of Eve 1/3/2003
316. A Birthday 1/3/2003
317. When I Am Dead, My Dearest 1/3/2003
318. Dream Land 12/31/2002
319. Echo 1/3/2003
320. Remember 12/31/2002
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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