Memento Mori.

A poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Poor the pleasure
Doled out by measure,
Sweet though it be, while brief
As falling of the leaf;
Poor is pleasure
By weight and measure.

Sweet the sorrow
Which ends to-morrow;
Sharp though it be and sore,
It ends for evermore:
Zest of sorrow,
What ends to-morrow.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Memento Mori.' by Christina Georgina Rossetti

comments powered by Disqus