Posie & Mosey Monday

On Mondays, I like to share word posies with my readers. Comments are disabled so you can enjoy this gift of poetry then mosey on along to your list of daily do's.*

*Hungry for more in-depth Monday posts? Visit any or all of the entertaining and insightful blogs on my sidebar.

DREAM LAND
~Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

HERE sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
 
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
 
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
 
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.

"Dream Land" is reprinted from Poems. Christina Rossetti. London: Macmillan, 1891.

Posie & Mosey Mondays

On Mondays, I like to share word posies with my readers. Comments are disabled so you can enjoy this gift of poetry then mosey on along to your list of daily do's.*

Please drop back by on Wednesday, my interactive blogging day of the week. Until then, have a lovely and productive Monday and Tuesday.

*Hungry for more in-depth Monday posts? Visit any or all of the entertaining and insightful blogs on my sidebar. ;)

Sleeping at Last

~Christina Rosetti (1830-1894)

Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past,

Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over,

Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover,

Sleeping at last.

No more a tired heart downcast or overcaset,

No more pants that wring or shifting fears that hover,

Sleeping at last in a dreamless sleep locked fast.

Fast asleep. Singing birds in their leafy cover

Cannot wake her, nor shake her the gusty blast.

Under the purple thyme and the purple clover

Sleeping at last.

Posie & Mosey Mondays

A posie is a tiny flower bouquet typically given as a gift. In medieval times, they were carried or worn around the head or bodice to keep the bad smells away and the nose happy.

Well, that's kind of what poems are for me. Word posies: little bouquets of words that though smaller than novels, keep my inner reader happy with powerful sensory and emotive cues.

On Mondays, I like to share these word posies with my readers. Comments are disabled so you can enjoy the gift of poetry then mosey on along to your list of daily do's.*

Please drop back by on Wednesday, my interactive blogging day of the week. Until then, have a lovely and productive Monday and Tuesday.

*Hungry for more in-depth Monday posts? Visit any or all of the entertaining and insightful blogs on my sidebar. ;)

A Birthday~

Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

My heart is like a singing bird

Whose nest is in a watered shoot;

My heart is like an apple-tree

Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;

My heart is like a rainbow's shell

That paddles in a halycon sea;

My heart is gladder than all these

Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a 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 fleur-de-lys;

Because the birthday of my life

Is come, my love is come to me.