Poetry Catalog

THE FLESH. "Sweet, thou art pale.""More pale to see,Christ hung upon the cruel treeAnd bore His Father's wrath for me." "Sweet, thou art sad.""Beneath a rodMore heavy, Christ for my sake trodThe winepress of the wrath of God." "Sweet, thou art weary.""Not so Christ:Whose mighty love of me sufficedFor Strength, Salvation, Eucharist." "Sweet, thou art footsore.""If I … [Read more...] about The Three Enemies, By: Christina Rossetti

I will accept thy will to do and be,Thy hatred and intolerance of sin,Thy will at least to love, that burns withinAnd thirsteth after Me:So will I render fruitful, blessing stillThe germs and small beginnings in thy heart,Because thy will cleaves to the better part.—Alas, I cannot will. Dost not thou will, poor soul? Yet I receiveThe inner unseen longings of the soul;I guide … [Read more...] about “A Bruised Reed shall he not Break”, By: Christina Rossetti

I bore with thee long weary days and nights,Through many pangs of heart, through many tears;I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights,For three and thirty years. Who else had dared for thee what I have dared?I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above;I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared:Give thou Me love for love. For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth,For … [Read more...] about “The Love of Christ which passeth Knowledge”, By: Christina Rossetti

I wonder if the sap is stirring yet,If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sunAnd crocus fires are kindling one by one:Sing, robin, sing!I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring. I wonder if the spring-tide of this yearWill bring another Spring both lost and dear;If heart and spirit will find out their Spring,Or if the world alone will … [Read more...] about The First Spring Day, By: Christina Rossetti

O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;Lie close around her; leave no room for mirthWith its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.She hath no questions, she hath no replies,Hushed in and curtained with a blessed dearthOf all that irked her from the hour of birth;With stillness that is almost Paradise.Darkness more clear than noonday … [Read more...] about Rest, By: Christina Rossetti