Summer is Ended
Christina Rossetti
1830 to 1894
To think that this meaningless thing was ever a rose
Scentless, colorless, this!
Will it ever be thus (who knows?)
Thus with our bliss,
If we wait till the close?
Though we care not to wait for the end, there comes the end
Sooner, later, at last,
Which nothing can mar, nothing mend:
An end locked fast,
Bent we cannot re-bend.
Christina Rossetti's Summer is Ended
I am busy working to bring Christina Rossetti's "Summer is Ended" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
In the meantime, I invite you to explore the poem's themes, structure, and meaning. You can also check out the gallery for other musical arrangements or learn more about Christina Rossetti's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "Summer is Ended" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.
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