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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.
Christina Georgina Rossetti
Christina Georgina Rossetti's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org