Christina Rossetty poems |
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1842 , . 1847- — , , , , . , .
, "" (The Germ) (1850) Ellen Alleyn «» (1848). «́» («́») — - , 1828 1921 .
2 1828 , «The Athenaeum of London, literary and critical Journal, edited by J. S. Buckingham».
— « » — 1862 . . - Goblin Market (1862), , , ; The Germ .
, The Prince's Progress(1866), , . . — , . , .
. "bout rimes" - , - , . 60 , : 14 Innominata. A Sonnet on Sonnets 28 Later Life: A Double Sonnet ofSonnets. O Pageant and Other P 1881 . 1848 . . , "wave form", ; , .
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( 60), 1848 ., : «Monna Innominata» 28 «Later Life» (1881).
https://readeralexey.narod.ru/Library/ChRossetti_1990.pdf
Monna Innominata: A Sonnet on Sonnets 1866-1881 . : , « » , ( ) . ; — .
From "MONNA INNOMINATA”
"Con miglior corso e con migliore stella."—DANTE.
"La vita fugge e non s'arresta un' ora."-PETRARC.
Time flies, hope flags, life plies a wearied wing:
Death following hard on life gains ground apace;
Faith runs with each and rears an eager face,
Outruns the rest, makes light of everything,
Spurns earth, and stiil finds breath to pray and sing;
While love ahead of all uplifts his praise,
Still asks for grace and still gives thanks for grace,
Content with all day brings and night will bring.
Life wanes; and when love folds his wings above
Tired hope, and less we feel his conscious pulse,
Let us go fall asleep, dear friend, in peace:
A little while, and age and sorrow cease;
A little while, and life reborn annuls
Loss and decay and death, and all is love.
"Con miglior corso e con migliore stella."—DANTE.
"La vita fugge e non s'arresta un' ora."- PETRARCA.
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"LATER LIFE: A DOUBLE SONNET OF SONNETS”
Later Life: A Double Sonnet of Sonnets 1881 ., . 1881 . A Pageant and Other Poems. 28 24 , 3, 4, 5, 8- .
So tired am I, so weary of to-day,
So unrefreshed from foregone weariness,
A So overburdened by foreseen distress.
So lagging and so stumbling on my way,
I scarce can rouse myself to watch or pray,
To hope, or aim, or toil for more or less,
Ah always less and less, even while I press
Forward and toil and aim as best I may.
Half-starved of soul and heartsick utterly,
Yet lift I up my heart and soul and eyes
(Which fail in looking upward) toward the prize:
Me, Lord, Thou seest though I see not Thee;
Me now, as once the Thief in Paradise,
Even me, O Lord my Lord, remember me.
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Christina Rossetti
AFTER DEATH
Sonnet
The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept
And strewn with rushes, rosemary and may
Lay thick upon the bed on which I lay,
Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept.
He leaned above me, thinking that I slept
And could not hear him; but I heard him say:
'Poor child, poor child:' and as he turned away
Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept.
He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold
That hid my face, or take my hand in his,
Or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head:
He did not love me living; but once dead
He pitied me; and very sweet it is
To know he still is warm though I am cold.
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Song.
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
(Wr. 1848; pub. 1862)
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Winter: My Secret
I TELL my sicret? No indeed, not I:
Perhaps some day, who knows?
But not today; it froze, and blows, and snows,
And you're too curiouse:fie!
You want to hear it? well:
Only, my secret's mine, and I won't tell.
Or, after all, perhaps there's none:
Suppose there is no secret after all,
But only just my fun.
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Perhaps my secret I may say,
Or you may guess.
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A birthdayMy heart is like a singing bird
Whose heart is in a watered shoot:
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That Paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.Raise me dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.
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"- " "Sing Song A Nursery Rhyme Book" "-", . , , . " ".
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Queen Victoria on a Copper Farthing
What will you give me for my pound?
Full twenty shillings round.
What will you give me for my shilling?
Twelve pence to give I'm willing.
What will you give me for my penny?
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