Christina Georgina Rossetti
Who Hath Despised The Day Of Small Things? - Poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
As violets so be I recluse and sweet,
Cheerful as daisies unaccounted rare,
Still sunward-gazing from a lowly seat,
Still sweetening wintry air.
While half-awakened Spring lags incomplete,
While lofty forest trees tower bleak and bare,
Daisies and violets own remotest heat
And bloom and make them fair.
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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
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