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Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.

By Time Flies. VII. “Golden haired, lily white”

Christina G. Rossetti (1830–1894)

June 2

“As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.”

“GOLDEN haired, lily white,

Will you pluck me lilies?

Or will you show me where they grow,

Show where the limpid rill is?

But is your hair of gold or light,

And is your foot of flake or fire,

And have you wings rolled up from sight,

And songs to slake desire?”

“I pluck fresh flowers of Paradise,

Lilies and roses red,

A bending sceptre for my hand,

A crown to crown my head.

I sing my songs, I pluck my flowers

Sweet-scented from their fragrant trees:

I sing, we sing amid the bowers,

And gather palm branches.”

“Is there a path to Heaven

My stumbling foot may tread?

And will you show that way to go,

That bower and blossom bed?”

“The path to Heaven is steep and straight

And scorched, but ends in shade of trees,

Where yet awhile we sing and wait,

And gather palm branches.”