Christina Rossetti

Christina Rossetti

1830–1894 · lived 64 years GB GB

Christina Rossetti was an English poet of Italian descent, renowned for her lyrical and devotional poetry, often exploring themes of love, death, faith, and the natural world. She is considered one of the most significant poets of the Victorian era. Her work is characterized by its musicality, vivid imagery, and deep spiritual intensity, often tinged with a melancholic beauty that resonates with readers to this day.

n. 1830-12-05, Londres · m. 1894-12-29, Londres

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If Stars Dropped Out Of Heaven

If Stars Dropped Out Of Heaven

If stars dropped out of heaven,
And if flowers took their place,
The sky would still look very fair,
And fair earth's face.
Winged angels might fly down to us
To pluck the stars,
Be we could only long for flowers
Beyond the cloudy bars.
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Bio

Identification and basic context

Christina Georgina Rossetti was a prominent English poet of Italian heritage. She is celebrated for her lyrical and devotional poetry, which often delves into themes of love, death, faith, and the transient beauty of the natural world. As a key figure of the Victorian era, her work stands out for its profound spiritual intensity and its exquisite musicality. Her contributions to English literature are substantial, with poems such as 'Goblin Market' and 'Remember' remaining widely read and studied.

Childhood and education

Born into an intellectual and artistic family, Christina Rossetti had an upbringing steeped in literature and religious devotion. Her father, Gabriele Rossetti, was an Italian poet and scholar, and her mother, Frances Polidori Rossetti, was of English and Italian descent. Her siblings included Dante Gabriel Rossetti, a prominent artist and poet, and William Michael Rossetti, an art critic and writer. Christina received her early education at home, where she was tutored by her mother and elder siblings. This environment fostered her early interest in poetry and literature. Her family's strong Anglo-Italian heritage and their devout Christian faith profoundly influenced her formative years and the subsequent themes in her work.

Literary trajectory

Rossetti's literary career began in her teenage years, with early poems circulating among her family and friends. Her first published volume, 'Verses,' appeared in 1847, a collection of poems written between the ages of 12 and 17. She later became associated with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, primarily through her brother Dante Gabriel. Her most famous work, 'Goblin Market and Other Poems,' was published in 1862 to considerable acclaim, establishing her reputation as a major poet. Throughout her life, she continued to write poetry, devotional prose, and children's verse. Her trajectory was marked by periods of intense creative output interspersed with periods of relative quietude, often influenced by her spiritual convictions and personal circumstances.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Rossetti's major works include 'Goblin Market and Other Poems' (1862), 'The Prince's Progress and Other Poems' (1866), 'Sing-Song: A Nursery Rhyme Book' (1872), and the devotional prose work 'Called to Be Saints' (1881). Her dominant themes include love (both earthly and divine), death, faith, renunciation, temptation, and the beauty and decay of the natural world. Her style is characterized by its lyrical beauty, rich imagery, and strong musicality, often employing symbolism and allegory. She was adept at using varied forms, from sonnets to ballads and nursery rhymes, often experimenting with rhythm and rhyme to create striking effects. Her poetic voice is often introspective, devotional, and deeply emotional, conveying a sense of yearning and spiritual longing. The language is precise yet evocative, rich with sensory detail. Rossetti's work often engages with religious themes, exploring the complexities of faith, doubt, and salvation with a unique blend of personal conviction and poetic artistry.

Cultural and historical context

Christina Rossetti lived during the Victorian era, a period of significant social, religious, and industrial change in Britain. Her work often reflects the religious fervor and the debates surrounding faith and doubt prevalent at the time. Her association with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood placed her within a significant artistic movement that sought to revive medieval aesthetics and emphasize sincerity and imaginative richness. Her poetry engaged with contemporary issues of social reform and the role of women, though often through a lens of Christian morality and personal introspection. She was a contemporary of poets like Alfred Lord Tennyson and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and her work shares some thematic concerns with theirs, yet possesses a distinctively personal and spiritual quality.

Personal life

Rossetti's personal life was deeply shaped by her devout religious faith, particularly her adherence to the High Church Anglican tradition. This faith led her to twice refuse marriage proposals from men she loved, believing that her spiritual calling superseded earthly attachments. She suffered from various illnesses throughout her life, including Graves' disease, which often limited her activities but also provided subject matter for her contemplative poetry. Her relationship with her family, especially her mother and siblings, was close and supportive, providing a stable anchor in her life. Her dedication to charitable work, particularly with the Magdalen Hospital for fallen women, reflected her compassionate nature and her deep-seated desire to help those in need.

Recognition and reception

Christina Rossetti achieved significant recognition during her lifetime, with 'Goblin Market' being particularly well-received. She was regarded as one of the foremost poets of her day, and her work was admired for its originality, spiritual depth, and lyrical skill. Posthumously, her reputation has continued to flourish. While at times overshadowed by her brother Dante Gabriel, her distinct voice and thematic concerns have secured her a prominent place in the canon of English literature. Her works are widely anthologized and studied for their exploration of faith, love, and the female experience in the Victorian era.

Influences and legacy

Rossetti was influenced by the Bible, devotional writers such as Thomas à Kempis, and poets like George Herbert and John Keats. Her own poetry has had a lasting influence on subsequent generations of poets, particularly in the areas of devotional verse, children's literature, and symbolic poetry. Her exploration of themes related to temptation, sacrifice, and spiritual longing has resonated with many writers. She is also recognized for her significant contributions to the genre of nursery rhymes and children's verse. Her legacy is firmly established through her enduring poems, which continue to be celebrated for their beauty, emotional resonance, and spiritual insight.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Rossetti's poetry is often analyzed for its complex interplay of spiritual and sensual themes. Her poems exploring love and desire are frequently interpreted through the lens of her religious renunciation, leading to discussions about the tension between earthly and divine love. The allegorical nature of 'Goblin Market' has invited numerous critical interpretations, ranging from explorations of female sexuality and temptation to critiques of consumerism and industrialization. Her engagement with themes of death and eternity is also a significant focus of critical study, revealing a profound theological and existential depth.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Despite her fame, Christina Rossetti was a remarkably private individual. Her deep faith meant she often struggled with worldly temptations, and her poetry reflects this inner conflict. She had a particular affinity for animals and often wrote about them. Her dedication to her religious convictions sometimes led to difficult personal choices, such as refusing marriage. Her creative process was deeply tied to her spiritual life, often involving prayer and contemplation.

Death and memory

Christina Rossetti died in 1894 from breast cancer. She was buried in Highgate Cemetery, London. Her death was mourned by many who recognized her immense contribution to English poetry. Posthumous collections of her work continued to be published, ensuring her enduring place in literary history. Her memory is preserved through the timeless beauty and spiritual depth of her verse.

Poems

155

Marvel of Marvels

Marvel of Marvels

MARVEL of marvels, if I myself shall behold
With mine own eyes my King in His city of gold;
Where the least of lambs is spotless white in the fold,
Where the least and last of saints in spotless white is stoled,
Where the dimmest head beyond a moon is aureoled.
O saints, my beloved, now mouldering to mould in the mould,
Shall I see you lift your heads, see your cerements unroll'd,
See with these very eyes? who now in darkness and cold
Tremble for the midnight cry, the rapture, the tale untold,--
The Bridegroom cometh, cometh, His Bride to enfold!


Cold it is, my beloved, since your funeral bell was toll'd:
Cold it is, O my King, how cold alone on the wold!
190

Lullaby, Oh, Lullaby!

Lullaby, Oh, Lullaby!

Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Flowers are closed and lambs are sleeping;
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Stars are up, the moon is peeping;
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
While the birds are silence keeping,
(Lullaby, oh, lullaby!)
Sleep, my baby, fall a-sleeping,
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
240

Love From The North

Love From The North

I had a love in soft south land,
Beloved through April far in May;
He waited on my lightest breath,
And never dared to say me nay.


He saddened if my cheer was sad,
But gay he grew if I was gay;
We never differed on a hair,
My yes his yes, my nay his nay.


The wedding hour was come, the aisles
Were flushed with sun and flowers that day;
I pacing balanced in my thoughts:
'It's quite too late to think of nay.'—


My bridegroom answered in his turn,
Myself had almost answered 'yea:'
When through the flashing nave I heard
A struggle and resounding 'nay.'


Bridemaids and bridegroom shrank in fear,
But I stood high who stood at bay:
'And if I answer yea, fair Sir,
What man art thou to bar with nay?'


He was a strong man from the north,
Light-locked, with eyes of dangerous grey:
'Put yea by for another time
In which I will not say thee nay.'


He took me in his strong white arms,
He bore me on his horse away
O'er crag, morass, and hairbreadth pass,
But never asked me yea or nay.


He made me fast with book and bell,
With links of love he makes me stay;
Till now I've neither heart nor power
Nor will nor wish to say him nay.
236

Light Love

Light Love

'Oh, sad thy lot before I came,
But sadder when I go;
My presence but a flash of flame,
A transitory glow
Between two barren wastes like snow.
What wilt thou do when I am gone,
Where wilt thou rest, my dear?
For cold thy bed to rest upon,
And cold the falling year
Whose withered leaves are lost and sere.'


She hushed the baby at her breast,
She rocked it on her knee:
'And I will rest my lonely rest,
Warmed with the thought of thee,
Rest lulled to rest by memory.'
She hushed the baby with her kiss,
She hushed it with her breast:
'Is death so sadder much than this—
Sure death that builds a nest
For those who elsewhere cannot rest?'


'Oh, sad thy note, my mateless dove,
With tender nestling cold;
But hast thou ne'er another love
Left from the days of old,
To build thy nest of silk and gold,
To warm thy paleness to a blush
When I am far away—
To warm thy coldness to a flush,
And turn thee back to May,
And turn thy twilight back to day?'


She did not answer him again,
But leaned her face aside,
Weary with the pang of shame and pain,
And sore with wounded pride:
He knew his very soul had lied.
She strained his baby in her arms,
His baby to her heart:
'Even let it go, the love that harms:
We twain will never part;
Mine own, his own, how dear thou art.'


'Now never teaze me, tender-eyed,
Sigh-voiced,' he said in scorn:
'For nigh at hand there blooms a bride,
My bride before the morn;
Ripe-blooming she, as thou forlorn.
Ripe-blooming she, my rose, my peach;
She woos me day and night:
I watch her tremble in my reach;



She reddens, my delight,
She ripens, reddens in my sight.'


'And is she like a sunlit rose?
Am I like withered leaves?
Haste where thy spiced garden blows:
But in bare Autumn eves
Wilt thou have store of harvest sheaves?
Thou leavest love, true love behind,
To seek a love as true;
Go, seek in haste: but wilt thou find?
Change new again for new;
Pluck up, enjoy—yea, trample too.


'Alas for her, poor faded rose,
Alas for her her, like me,
Cast down and trampled in the snows.'
'Like thee? nay, not like thee:
She leans, but from a guarded tree.
Farewell, and dream as long ago,
Before we ever met:
Farewell; my swift-paced horse seems slow.'
She raised her eyes, not wet
But hard, to Heaven: 'Does God forget?'
241

Lord Jesus, Who Would Think That I Am Thine?

Lord Jesus, Who Would Think That I Am Thine?

Lord Jesus, who would think that I am Thine?
Ah, who would think
Who sees me ready to turn back or sink,
That Thou art mine?


I cannot hold Thee fast though Thou art mine:
Hold Thou me fast,
So earth shall know at last and heaven at last
That I am Thine.
217

Lie A-Bed

Lie A-Bed

Lie a-bed,
Sleepy head,
Shut up eyes, bo-peep;
Till daybreak
Never wake: -
Baby, sleep.
218

Last Night

Last Night

Where were you last night? I watched at the gate;
I went down early, I stayed down late.
Were you snug at home, I should like to know,
Or were you in the coppice wheedling Kate?


She's a fine girl, with a fine clear skin;
Easy to woo, perhaps not hard to win.
Speak up like a man and tell me the truth:
I'm not one to grow downhearted and thin.


If you love her best speak up like a man;
It's not I will stand in the light of your plan:
Some girls might cry and scold you a bit,
And say they couldn't bear it; but I can.


Love was pleasant enough, and the days went fast;
Pleasant while it lasted, but it needn't last;
Awhile on the wax and awhile on the wane,
Now dropped away into the past.


Was it pleasant to you? To me it was;
Now clean gone as an image from glass,
As a goodly rainbow that fades away,
As dew that steams upward from the grass,


As the first spring day, or the last summer day,
As the sunset flush that leaves heaven grey,
As a flame burnt out for lack of oil,
Which no pains relight or ever may.


Good luck to Kate and good luck to you:
I guess she'll be kind when you come to woo.
I wish her a pretty face that will last,
I wish her a husband steady and true.


Hate you? not I, my very good friend;
All things begin and all have an end.
But let broken be broken; I put no faith
In quacks who set up to patch and mend.


Just my love and one word to Kate:
Not to let time slip if she means to mate;—
For even such a thing has been known
As to miss the chance while we weigh and wait.
228

L. e. l.

L. e. l.
'Whose heart was breaking for a little love.'

Downstairs I laugh, I sport and jest with all;
But in my solitary room above
I turn my face in silence to the wall;
My heart is breaking for a little love.
Though winter frosts are done,
And birds pair every one,
And leaves peep out, for springtide is begun.


I feel no spring, while spring is wellnigh blown,
I find no nest, while nests are in the grove:
Woe's me for mine own heart that dwells alone,
My heart that breaketh for a little love.
While golden in the sun
Rivulets rise and run,
While lilies bud, for springtide is begun.


All love, are loved, save only I; their hearts
Beat warm with love and joy, beat full thereof:
They cannot guess, who play the pleasant parts,
My heart is breaking for a little love.
While beehives wake and whirr,
And rabbit thins his fur,
In living spring that sets the world astir.


I deck myself with skills and jewelry,
I plume myself like any mated dove:
They praise my rustling show, and never see
My heart is breaking for a little love.
While sprouts green lavender
With rosemary and myrrh,
For in quick spring the sap is all astir.


Perhaps some saints in glory guess the truth,
Perhaps some angels read it as they move,
And cry one to another full of ruth,
'Her heart is breaking for a little love.'
Though other things have birth,
And leap and sing for mirth,
When springtime wakes and clothes and feeds the earth.


Yet saith a saint: 'Take patience for thy scathe;'
Yet saith an angel: 'Wait, for thou shalt prove
True best is last, true life is born of death,
O thou, heart-broken for a little love.
Then love shall fill they girth,
And love make fat thy dearth,
When new spring builds new heaven and clean new earth.'
225

Jesus, Do I Love Thee?

Jesus, Do I Love Thee?

Jesus, do I love Thee?
Thou art far above me,
Seated out of sight
Hid in Heavenly Light
Of most highest height.
Martyred hosts implore Thee,
Seraphs fall before Thee,
Angels and Archangels,
Cherub throngs adore Thee;
Blessed She that bore Thee!
All the Saints approve Thee,
All the Virgins love Thee.
I show as a blot
Blood hath cleansed not,
As a barren spot
In Thy fruitful lot.
I, fig-tree fruit-unbearing;
Thou, righteous Judge unsparing:
What canst Thou do more to me
That shall not more undo me?
Thy Justice hath a sound—
Why cumbereth it the ground?
Thy Love with stirrings stronger
Pleads—Give it one year longer.
Thou giv'st me time: but who
Save Thou shall give me dew;
Shall feed my root with Blood,
And stir my sap for good?
Oh, by Thy Gifts that shame me,
Give more lest they condemn me:
Good Lord, I ask much of Thee,
But most I ask to love Thee;
Kind Lord, be mindful of me,
Love me, and make me love Thee.
182

Is The Moon Tired? She Looks So Pale

Is The Moon Tired? She Looks So Pale

Is the moon tired? she looks so pale
Within her misty veil:
She scales the sky from east to west,
And takes no rest.
Before the coming of the night
The moon shows papery white;
Before the dawning of the day
She fades away.
239

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