It's a weary life, it is, she said: Doubly blank in a woman's lot: I wish and I wish I were a man: Or, better then any being, were not: Were nothing at all in all the world, Not a body and not a soul: Not so much as a grain of dust Or a drop of water from pole to pole. Still the world would wag on the same, Still the seasons go and come: Blossoms bloom as in days of old, Cherries ripen and wild bees hum. None would miss me in all the world, How much less would care or weep: I should be nothing, while all the rest Would wake and weary and fall asleep. (From the Antique by Christina Rossetti) #victorian #fantasy #spring #pastel #edwardian #historical #poetry #dreamy #romantic #ruffles
It's a weary life, it is, she said:
Doubly blank in a woman's lot:
I wish and I wish I were a man:
Or, better then any being, were not:
Were nothing at all in all the world,
Not a body and not a soul:
Not so much as a grain of dust
Or a drop of water from pole to pole.
Still the world would wag on the same,
Still the seasons go and come:
Blossoms bloom as in days of old,
Cherries ripen and wild bees hum.
None would miss me in all the world,
How much less would care or weep:
I should be nothing, while all the rest
Would wake and weary and fall asleep.
(From the Antique by Christina Rossetti) #victorian #fantasy #spring #pastel #edwardian #historical #poetry #dreamy #romantic #ruffles