Christina G. Rossetti

The angel of spring, the mellow-throated nightingale.

The angel of spring, the mellow-throated nightingale.

Let but my scarlet head appear
And I am held in scorn;
Yet juice of subtile virtue read more

Let but my scarlet head appear
And I am held in scorn;
Yet juice of subtile virtue lies
Within my cup of curious dyes.

Hark! that's the nightingale,
Telling the self-same tale
Her song told when this ancient earth was young:
read more

Hark! that's the nightingale,
Telling the self-same tale
Her song told when this ancient earth was young:
So echoes answered when her song was sung
In the first wooded vale.

Before green apples blush,
Before green nuts embrown,
Why, one day in the country
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Before green apples blush,
Before green nuts embrown,
Why, one day in the country
Is worth a month in town.

I plucked a honeysuckle where
The hedge on high is quick with thorn,
And climbing for the read more

I plucked a honeysuckle where
The hedge on high is quick with thorn,
And climbing for the prize, was torn,
And fouled my feet in quag-water;
And by the thorns and by the wind
The blossom that I took was thinn'd
And yet I found it sweet and fair.