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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355964" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Amen</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is over. What is over?<br>Nay, now much is over truly!—<br>Harvest days we toiled to sow for;<br>Now the sheaves are gathered newly,<br>Now the wheat is garnered duly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is finished. What is finished?<br>Much is finished known or unknown:<br>Lives are finished; time diminished;<br>Was the fallow field left unsown?<br>Will these buds be always unblown? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It suffices. What suffices?<br>All suffices reckoned rightly:<br>Spring shall bloom where now the ice is,<br>Roses make the bramble sightly,<br>And the quickening sun shine brightly,<br>And the latter wind blow lightly,<br>And my garden teem with spices.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Maiden-Song<br>Long ago and long ago,<br>And long ago still,<br>There dwelt three merry maidens<br>Upon a distant hill.<br>One was tall Meggan,<br>And one was dainty May,<br>But one was fair Margaret,<br>More fair than I can say,<br>Long ago and long ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When Meggan plucked the thorny rose, <br>And when May pulled the brier,<br>Half the birds would swoop to see,<br>Half the beasts draw nigher;<br>Half the fishes of the streams<br>Would dart up to admire:<br>But when Margaret plucked a flag-flower,<br>Or poppy hot aflame,<br>All the beasts and all the birds<br>And all the fishes came<br>To her hand more soft than snow. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strawberry leaves and May-dew<br>In brisk morning air,<br>Strawberry leaves and May-dew<br>Make maidens fair.<br>'I go for strawberry leaves,'<br>Meggan said one day:<br>'Fair Margaret can bide at home,<br>But you come with me, May;<br>Up the hill and down the hill,<br>Along the winding way <br>You and I are used to go.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So these two fair sisters<br>Went with innocent will<br>Up the hill and down again,<br>And round the homestead hill:<br>While the fairest sat at home,<br>Margaret like a queen,<br>Like a blush-rose, like the moon<br>In her heavenly sheen,<br>Fragrant-breathed as milky cow <br>Or field of blossoming bean,<br>Graceful as an ivy bough<br>Born to cling and lean;<br>Thus she sat to sing and sew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When she raised her lustrous eyes<br>A beast peeped at the door;<br>When she downward cast her eyes<br>A fish gasped on the floor;<br>When she turned away her eyes<br>A bird perched on the sill, <br>Warbling out its heart of love,<br>Warbling warbling still,<br>With pathetic pleadings low.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Light-foot May with Meggan<br>Sought the choicest spot,<br>Clothed with thyme-alternate grass:<br>Then, while day waxed hot,<br>Sat at ease to play and rest,<br>A gracious rest and play;<br>The loveliest maidens near or far, <br>When Margaret was away,<br>Who sat at home to sing and sew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sun-glow flushed their comely cheeks,<br>Wind-play tossed their hair,<br>Creeping things among the grass<br>Stroked them here and there;<br>Meggan piped a merry note,<br>A fitful wayward lay,<br>While shrill as bird on topmost twig<br>Piped merry May; <br>Honey-smooth the double flow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sped a herdsman from the vale,<br>Mounting like a flame,<br>All on fire to hear and see,<br>With floating locks he came.<br>Looked neither north nor south,<br>Neither east nor west,<br>But sat him down at Meggan's feet<br>As love-bird on his nest,<br>And wooed her with a silent awe, <br>With trouble not expressed;<br>She sang the tears into his eyes,<br>The heart out of his breast:<br>So he loved her, listening so.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She sang the heart out of his breast,<br>The words out of his tongue;<br>Hand and foot and pulse he paused<br>Till her song was sung.<br>Then he spoke up from his place<br>Simple words and true: <br>'Scanty goods have I to give,<br>Scanty skill to woo;<br>But I have a will to work,<br>And a heart for you:<br>Bid me stay or bid me go.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Meggan mused within herself:<br>'Better be first with him,<br>Than dwell where fairer Margaret sits,<br>Who shines my brightness dim,<br>For ever second where she sits, <br>However fair I be:<br>I will be lady of his love,<br>And he shall worship me;<br>I will be lady of his herds<br>And stoop to his degree,<br>At home where kids and fatlings grow.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sped a shepherd from the height<br>Headlong down to look,<br>(White lambs followed, lured by love<br>Of their shepherd's crook): <br>He turned neither east nor west,<br>Neither north nor south,<br>But knelt right down to May, for love<br>Of her sweet-singing mouth;<br>Forgot his flocks, his panting flocks<br>In parching hill-side drouth;<br>Forgot himself for weal or woe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Trilled her song and swelled her song<br>With maiden coy caprice<br>In a labyrinth of throbs, <br>Pauses, cadences;<br>Clear-noted as a dropping brook,<br>Soft-noted like the bees,<br>Wild-noted as the shivering wind<br>Forlorn through forest trees:<br>Love-noted like the wood-pigeon<br>Who hides herself for love,<br>Yet cannot keep her secret safe,<br>But coos and coos thereof:<br>Thus the notes rang loud or low. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He hung breathless on her breath;<br>Speechless, who listened well;<br>Could not speak or think or wish<br>Till silence broke the spell.<br>Then he spoke, and spread his hands,<br>Pointing here and there:<br>'See my sheep and see the lambs,<br>Twin lambs which they bare.<br>All myself I offer you,<br>All my flocks and care, <br>Your sweet song hath moved me so.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In her fluttered heart young May<br>Mused a dubious while:<br>'If he loves me as he says'—<br>Her lips curved with a smile:<br>'Where Margaret shines like the sun<br>I shine but like a moon;<br>If sister Meggan makes her choice<br>I can make mine as soon;<br>At cockcrow we were sister-maids, <br>We may be brides at noon.'<br>Said Meggan, 'Yes;' May said not 'No.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fair Margaret stayed alone at home,<br>Awhile she sang her song,<br>Awhile sat silent, then she thought:<br>'My sisters loiter long.'<br>That sultry noon had waned away,<br>Shadows had waxen great:<br>'Surely,' she thought within herself,<br>'My sisters loiter late.' <br>She rose, and peered out at the door,<br>With patient heart to wait,<br>And heard a distant nightingale<br>Complaining of its mate;<br>Then down the garden slope she walked,<br>Down to the garden gate,<br>Leaned on the rail and waited so.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The slope was lightened by her eyes<br>Like summer lightning fair,<br>Like rising of the haloed moon <br>Lightened her glimmering hair,<br>While her face lightened like the sun<br>Whose dawn is rosy white.<br>Thus crowned with maiden majesty<br>She peered into the night,<br>Looked up the hill and down the hill,<br>To left hand and to right,<br>Flashing like fire-flies to and fro.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Waiting thus in weariness<br>She marked the nightingale <br>Telling, if any one would heed,<br>Its old complaining tale.<br>Then lifted she her voice and sang,<br>Answering the bird:<br>Then lifted she her voice and sang,<br>Such notes were never heard<br>From any bird when Spring's in blow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The king of all that country<br>Coursing far, coursing near,<br>Curbed his amber-bitted steed, <br>Coursed amain to hear;<br>All his princes in his train,<br>Squire, and knight, and peer,<br>With his crown upon his head,<br>His sceptre in his hand,<br>Down he fell at Margaret's knees<br>Lord king of all that land,<br>To her highness bending low.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Every beast and bird and fish<br>Came mustering to the sound, <br>Every man and every maid<br>From miles of country round:<br>Meggan on her herdsman's arm,<br>With her shepherd May,<br>Flocks and herds trooped at their heels<br>Along the hill-side way;<br>No foot too feeble for the ascent,<br>Not any head too grey;<br>Some were swift and none were slow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So Margaret sang her sisters home <br>In their marriage mirth;<br>Sang free birds out of the sky,<br>Beasts along the earth,<br>Sang up fishes of the deep—<br>All breathing things that move<br>Sang from far and sang from near<br>To her lovely love;<br>Sang together friend and foe;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sang a golden-bearded king<br>Straightway to her feet, <br>Sang him silent where he knelt<br>In eager anguish sweet.<br>But when the clear voice died away,<br>When longest echoes died,<br>He stood up like a royal man<br>And claimed her for his bride.<br>So three maids were wooed and won<br>In a brief May-tide,<br>Long ago and long ago.<br>JESSIE CAMERON</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Jessie, Jessie Cameron,<br>Hear me but this once,' quoth he.<br>'Good luck go with you, neighbor's son,<br>But I'm no mate for you,' quoth she.<br>Day was verging toward the night<br>There beside the moaning sea,<br>Dimness overtook the light<br>There where the breakers be.<br>'O Jessie, Jessie Cameron,<br>I have loved you long and true.'— <br>'Good luck go with you, neighbor's son,<br>But I'm no mate for you.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She was a careless, fearless girl,<br>And made her answer plain,<br>Outspoken she to earl or churl,<br>Kindhearted in the main,<br>But somewhat heedless with her tongue,<br>And apt at causing pain;<br>A mirthful maiden she and young,<br>Most fair for bliss or bane. <br>'Oh, long ago I told you so,<br>I tell you so to-day:<br>Go you your way, and let me go<br>Just my own free way.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sea swept in with moan and foam,<br>Quickening the stretch of sand;<br>They stood almost in sight of home;<br>He strove to take her hand.<br>'Oh, can't you take your answer then,<br>And won't you understand? <br>For me you're not the man of men,<br>I've other plans are planned.<br>You're good for Madge, or good for Cis,<br>Or good for Kate, may be:<br>But what's to me the good of this<br>While you're not good for me?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They stood together on the beach,<br>They two alone,<br>And louder waxed his urgent speech,<br>His patience almost gone: <br>'Oh, say but one kind word to me,<br>Jessie, Jessie Cameron.'—<br>'I'd be too proud to beg,' quoth she,<br>And pride was in her tone.<br>And pride was in her lifted head,<br>And in her angry eye<br>And in her foot, which might have fled,<br>But would not fly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some say that he had gipsy blood;<br>That in his heart was guile: <br>Yet he had gone through fire and flood<br>Only to win her smile.<br>Some say his grandam was a witch,<br>A black witch from beyond the Nile,<br>Who kept an image in a niche<br>And talked with it the while.<br>And by her hut far down the lane<br>Some say they would not pass at night,<br>Lest they should hear an unked strain<br>Or see an unked sight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas, for Jessie Cameron!—<br>The sea crept moaning, moaning nigher:<br>She should have hastened to begone,—<br>The sea swept higher, breaking by her:<br>She should have hastened to her home<br>While yet the west was flushed with fire,<br>But now her feet are in the foam,<br>The sea-foam, sweeping higher.<br>O mother, linger at your door,<br>And light your lamp to make it plain, <br>But Jessie she comes home no more,<br>No more again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They stood together on the strand,<br>They only, each by each;<br>Home, her home, was close at hand,<br>Utterly out of reach.<br>Her mother in the chimney nook<br>Heard a startled sea-gull screech,<br>But never turned her head to look<br>Towards the darkening beach: <br>Neighbours here and neighbours there<br>Heard one scream, as if a bird<br>Shrilly screaming cleft the air:—<br>That was all they heard.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Jessie she comes home no more,<br>Comes home never;<br>Her lover's step sounds at his door<br>No more forever.<br>And boats may search upon the sea<br>And search along the river, <br>But none know where the bodies be:<br>Sea-winds that shiver,<br>Sea-birds that breast the blast,<br>Sea-waves swelling,<br>Keep the secret first and last<br>Of their dwelling.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whether the tide so hemmed them round<br>With its pitiless flow,<br>That when they would have gone they found<br>No way to go; <br>Whether she scorned him to the last<br>With words flung to and fro,<br>Or clung to him when hope was past,<br>None will ever know:<br>Whether he helped or hindered her,<br>Threw up his life or lost it well,<br>The troubled sea, for all its stir<br>Finds no voice to tell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Only watchers by the dying<br>Have thought they heard one pray <br>Wordless, urgent; and replying<br>One seem to say him nay:<br>And watchers by the dead have heard<br>A windy swell from miles away,<br>With sobs and screams, but not a word<br>Distinct for them to say:<br>And watchers out at sea have caught<br>Glimpse of a pale gleam here or there,<br>Come and gone as quick as thought,<br>Which might be hand or hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Christina+Georgina+Rossetti">Christina Georgina Rossetti</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355964" data-title="Amen de Christina Georgina Rossetti" data-description="It is over. What is over?
Nay, now much is over truly!—
Harvest days we toiled to sow for;
Now the sheaves are gathered newly,
Now the wheat is garnered duly.

It is finished. What is finished?
Much is finished known or unknown:
Lives are finish..."></div>
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