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Poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
It is over. What is over? Nay, now much is over truly!Ч Harvest days we toiled to sow for; Now the sheaves are gathered newly, Now the wheat is garnered duly. It is finished. What is finished? Much is finished known or unknown: Lives are finished; time diminished; Was the fallow field left unsown? Will these buds be always unblown? It suffices. What suffices? All suffices reckoned rightly: Spring shall bloom where now the ice is, Roses make the bramble sightly, And the quickening sun shine brightly, And the latter wind blow lightly, And my garden teem with spices. Maiden-Song Long ago and long ago, And long ago still, There dwelt three merry maidens Upon a distant hill. One was tall Meggan, And one was dainty May, But one was fair Margaret, More fair than I can say, Long ago and long ago. When Meggan plucked the thorny rose, And when May pulled the brier, Half the birds would swoop to see, Half the beasts draw nigher; Half the fishes of the streams Would dart up to admire: But when Margaret plucked a flag-flower, Or poppy hot aflame, All the beasts and all the birds And all the fishes came To her hand more soft than snow. Strawberry leaves and May-dew In brisk morning air, Strawberry leaves and May-dew Make maidens fair. 'I go for strawberry leaves,' Meggan said one day: 'Fair Margaret can bide at home, But you come with me, May; Up the hill and down the hill, Along the winding way You and I are used to go.' So these two fair sisters Went with innocent will Up the hill and down again, And round the homestead hill: While the fairest sat at home, Margaret like a queen, Like a blush-rose, like the moon In her heavenly sheen, Fragrant-breathed as milky cow Or field of blossoming bean, Graceful as an ivy bough Born to cling and lean; Thus she sat to sing and sew. When she raised her lustrous eyes A beast peeped at the door; When she downward cast her eyes A fish gasped on the floor; When she turned away her eyes A bird perched on the sill, Warbling out its heart of love, Warbling warbling still, With pathetic pleadings low. Light-foot May with Meggan Sought the choicest spot, Clothed with thyme-alternate grass: Then, while day waxed hot, Sat at ease to play and rest, A gracious rest and play; The loveliest maidens near or far, When Margaret was away, Who sat at home to sing and sew. Sun-glow flushed their comely cheeks, Wind-play tossed their hair, Creeping things among the grass Stroked them here and there; Meggan piped a merry note, A fitful wayward lay, While shrill as bird on topmost twig Piped merry May; Honey-smooth the double flow. Sped a herdsman from the vale, Mounting like a flame, All on fire to hear and see, With floating locks he came. Looked neither north nor south, Neither east nor west, But sat him down at Meggan's feet As love-bird on his nest, And wooed her with a silent awe, With trouble not expressed; She sang the tears into his eyes, The heart out of his breast: So he loved her, listening so. She sang the heart out of his breast, The words out of his tongue; Hand and foot and pulse he paused Till her song was sung. Then he spoke up from his place Simple words and true: 'Scanty goods have I to give, Scanty skill to woo; But I have a will to work, And a heart for you: Bid me stay or bid me go.' Then Meggan mused within herself: 'Better be first with him, Than dwell where fairer Margaret sits, Who shines my brightness dim, For ever second where she sits, However fair I be: I will be lady of his love, And he shall worship me; I will be lady of his herds And stoop to his degree, At home where kids and fatlings grow.' Sped a shepherd from the height Headlong down to look, (White lambs followed, lured by love Of their shepherd's crook): He turned neither east nor west, Neither north nor south, But knelt right down to May, for love Of her sweet-singing mouth; Forgot his flocks, his panting flocks In parching hill-side drouth; Forgot himself for weal or woe. Trilled her song and swelled her song With maiden coy caprice In a labyrinth of throbs, Pauses, cadences; Clear-noted as a dropping brook, Soft-noted like the bees, Wild-noted as the shivering wind Forlorn through forest trees: Love-noted like the wood-pigeon Who hides herself for love, Yet cannot keep her secret safe, But coos and coos thereof: Thus the notes rang loud or low. He hung breathless on her breath; Speechless, who listened well; Could not speak or think or wish Till silence broke the spell. Then he spoke, and spread his hands, Pointing here and there: 'See my sheep and see the lambs, Twin lambs which they bare. All myself I offer you, All my flocks and care, Your sweet song hath moved me so.' In her fluttered heart young May Mused a dubious while: 'If he loves me as he says'Ч Her lips curved with a smile: 'Where Margaret shines like the sun I shine but like a moon; If sister Meggan makes her choice I can make mine as soon; At cockcrow we were sister-maids, We may be brides at noon.' Said Meggan, 'Yes;' May said not 'No.' Fair Margaret stayed alone at home, Awhile she sang her song, Awhile sat silent, then she thought: 'My sisters loiter long.' That sultry noon had waned away, Shadows had waxen great: 'Surely,' she thought within herself, 'My sisters loiter late.' She rose, and peered out at the door, With patient heart to wait, And heard a distant nightingale Complaining of its mate; Then down the garden slope she walked, Down to the garden gate, Leaned on the rail and waited so. The slope was lightened by her eyes Like summer lightning fair, Like rising of the haloed moon Lightened her glimmering hair, While her face lightened like the sun Whose dawn is rosy white. Thus crowned with maiden majesty She peered into the night, Looked up the hill and down the hill, To left hand and to right, Flashing like fire-flies to and fro. Waiting thus in weariness She marked the nightingale Telling, if any one would heed, Its old complaining tale. Then lifted she her voice and sang, Answering the bird: Then lifted she her voice and sang, Such notes were never heard From any bird when Spring's in blow. The king of all that country Coursing far, coursing near, Curbed his amber-bitted steed, Coursed amain to hear; All his princes in his train, Squire, and knight, and peer, With his crown upon his head, His sceptre in his hand, Down he fell at Margaret's knees Lord king of all that land, To her highness bending low. Every beast and bird and fish Came mustering to the sound, Every man and every maid From miles of country round: Meggan on her herdsman's arm, With her shepherd May, Flocks and herds trooped at their heels Along the hill-side way; No foot too feeble for the ascent, Not any head too grey; Some were swift and none were slow. So Margaret sang her sisters home In their marriage mirth; Sang free birds out of the sky, Beasts along the earth, Sang up fishes of the deepЧ All breathing things that move Sang from far and sang from near To her lovely love; Sang together friend and foe; Sang a golden-bearded king Straightway to her feet, Sang him silent where he knelt In eager anguish sweet. But when the clear voice died away, When longest echoes died, He stood up like a royal man And claimed her for his bride. So three maids were wooed and won In a brief May-tide, Long ago and long ago. JESSIE CAMERON 'Jessie, Jessie Cameron, Hear me but this once,' quoth he. 'Good luck go with you, neighbor's son, But I'm no mate for you,' quoth she. Day was verging toward the night There beside the moaning sea, Dimness overtook the light There where the breakers be. 'O Jessie, Jessie Cameron, I have loved you long and true.'Ч 'Good luck go with you, neighbor's son, But I'm no mate for you.' She was a careless, fearless girl, And made her answer plain, Outspoken she to earl or churl, Kindhearted in the main, But somewhat heedless with her tongue, And apt at causing pain; A mirthful maiden she and young, Most fair for bliss or bane. 'Oh, long ago I told you so, I tell you so to-day: Go you your way, and let me go Just my own free way.' The sea swept in with moan and foam, Quickening the stretch of sand; They stood almost in sight of home; He strove to take her hand. 'Oh, can't you take your answer then, And won't you understand? For me you're not the man of men, I've other plans are planned. You're good for Madge, or good for Cis, Or good for Kate, may be: But what's to me the good of this While you're not good for me?' They stood together on the beach, They two alone, And louder waxed his urgent speech, His patience almost gone: 'Oh, say but one kind word to me, Jessie, Jessie Cameron.'Ч 'I'd be too proud to beg,' quoth she, And pride was in her tone. And pride was in her lifted head, And in her angry eye And in her foot, which might have fled, But would not fly. Some say that he had gipsy blood; That in his heart was guile: Yet he had gone through fire and flood Only to win her smile. Some say his grandam was a witch, A black witch from beyond the Nile, Who kept an image in a niche And talked with it the while. And by her hut far down the lane Some say they would not pass at night, Lest they should hear an unked strain Or see an unked sight. Alas, for Jessie Cameron!Ч The sea crept moaning, moaning nigher: She should have hastened to begone,Ч The sea swept higher, breaking by her: She should have hastened to her home While yet the west was flushed with fire, But now her feet are in the foam, The sea-foam, sweeping higher. O mother, linger at your door, And light your lamp to make it plain, But Jessie she comes home no more, No more again. They stood together on the strand, They only, each by each; Home, her home, was close at hand, Utterly out of reach. Her mother in the chimney nook Heard a startled sea-gull screech, But never turned her head to look Towards the darkening beach: Neighbours here and neighbours there Heard one scream, as if a bird Shrilly screaming cleft the air:Ч That was all they heard. Jessie she comes home no more, Comes home never; Her lover's step sounds at his door No more forever. And boats may search upon the sea And search along the river, But none know where the bodies be: Sea-winds that shiver, Sea-birds that breast the blast, Sea-waves swelling, Keep the secret first and last Of their dwelling. Whether the tide so hemmed them round With its pitiless flow, That when they would have gone they found No way to go; Whether she scorned him to the last With words flung to and fro, Or clung to him when hope was past, None will ever know: Whether he helped or hindered her, Threw up his life or lost it well, The troubled sea, for all its stir Finds no voice to tell. Only watchers by the dying Have thought they heard one pray Wordless, urgent; and replying One seem to say him nay: And watchers by the dead have heard A windy swell from miles away, With sobs and screams, but not a word Distinct for them to say: And watchers out at sea have caught Glimpse of a pale gleam here or there, Come and gone as quick as thought, Which might be hand or hair.
Christina Georgina Rossetti
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