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Hope is like a harebell trembling from its birth.
Christina Rossetti
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More from Christina Rossetti

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 I may forget.
Christina RossettiRead
We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?
Christina RossettiRead
To her whose heart is my heart's quiet home,_x000D_ _x000D_ To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee_x000D_ _x000D_ I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome.
Christina RossettiRead
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death; Come back to me in dreams, that I may give Pulse for pulse, breath for breath: Speak low, lean low, As long ago, my love, how long ago
Christina RossettiRead
Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart; My silent heart, lie still and break: Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed For a dream's sake.
Christina RossettiRead
I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?
Christina RossettiRead

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Quote by Christina Rossetti | QuoteProject