From the antique

The wind shall lull us yet,

The flowers shall spring above us:

And those who hate forget,

And those forgot who love us.


The pulse of hope shall cease,

Of joy and of regretting:

We twain shall sleep in peace,

Forgotten and forgetting.


For us no sun shall rise,

Nor wind rejoice, nor river,

Where we with fast-closed eyes

Shall sleep and sleep for ever.


Christina Rossetti (1830 – 1894)

Andrea Jackson The Holistic Celebrant

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