It is not the deed we do Though the deed be never so fair, But the love that the dear Lord looketh for, Hidden with lovely care In the heart of the deed so fair.
Christina RossettiShe gave up beauty in her tender youth, gave all her hope and joy and pleasant ways; she covered up her eyes lest they should gaze on vanity, and chose the bitter truth.
Christina RossettiWhy one day in the country Is worth a month in town; Is worth a day and a year Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion That days drone elsewhere.
Christina RossettiIt's surely summer. for there's a swallow: Come one swallow, his mate will follow, The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken.
Christina Rossetti