IN PROGRESS
by: Christina Rossetti
(1830-1894)
- EN years ago it seemed impossible
- That she could ever grow as calm as this,
- With self-remembrance in her warmest kiss
- And dim dried eyes like an exhausted well.
- Slow-speaking when she has some fact to tell,
- Silent with long-unbroken silences,
- Centred in self yet not unpleased to please,
- Gravely monotonous like a passing bell.
- Mindful of drudging daily common things,
- Patient at pastime, patient at her work,
- Wearied perhaps but strenuous certainly.
- Sometimes I fancy we may one day see
- Her head shoot forth seven stars from where they lurk
- And her eyes lightning and her shoulders wings.
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