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.

MORE POEMS BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

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