Saturday, 25 October 2008


Go from me, summer friends, and tarry not
I am no summer friend but wintry cold,
A silly sheep benighted from the fold,
A sluggard with a thorn-choked garden plot.
Take counsel, sever from my lot your lot,
Dwell in your pleasant places, hoard your gold;
Lest you with me should shiver on the wold,
Athirst and hungering on a barren spot.
For I have hedged me with a thorny hedge,
I live alone, I look to die alone:
Yet sometimes, when a wind sighs through the sedge
Ghosts of my buried years and friends come back
My heart goes sighing after swallows flown
On sometime summer's unreturning track.

-- Christina Rossetti

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Be nice!