An End

Christina Rossetti

1830 to 1894

Poem Image
Track 1

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Whereon we may sit
Sit we by his grave, and sing
And a stone at his feet,
To few chords and sad and low
In the quiet evening hours.
Sing we so:
For autumn twilight, cold and gray.
He is gone away.
Among the dying flowers:
In the long ago.
And died before the harvesting:
Love, strong as Death, is dead.
Come, let us make his bed
He was born in the Spring,
On the last warm summer day
A green turf at his head;
He left us; he would not stay
Shadow-veiled as the years pass,
Be our eyes fixed on the grass
While we think of all that was

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