Three Seasons

A poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti

'A cup for hope!' she said,
In springtime ere the bloom was old:
The crimson wine was poor and cold
By her mouth's richer red.

'A cup for love!' how low,
How soft the words; and all the while
Her blush was rippling with a smile
Like summer after snow.

'A cup for memory!'
Cold cup that one must drain alone:
While autumn winds are up and moan
Across the barren sea.

Hope, memory, love:
Hope for fair morn, and love for day,
And memory for the evening grey
And solitary dove.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Three Seasons' by Christina Georgina Rossetti

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy