Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)
My Sister's Sleep
1She fell asleep on Christmas Eve:
2 At length the long-ungranted shade
3 Of weary eyelids overweigh'd
4The pain nought else might yet relieve.
5Our mother, who had lean'd all day
6 Over the bed from chime to chime,
7 Then rais'd herself for the first time,
8And as she sat her down, did pray.
9Her little work-table was spread
10 With work to finish. For the glare
11 Made by her candle, she had care
12To work some distance from the bed.
13Without, there was a cold moon up,
14 Of winter radiance sheer and thin;
15 The hollow halo it was in
16Was like an icy crystal cup.
17Through the small room, with subtle sound
18 Of flame, by vents the fireshine drove
19 And redden'd. In its dim alcove
20The mirror shed a clearness round.
21I had been sitting up some nights,
22 And my tired mind felt weak and blank;
23 Like a sharp strengthening wine it drank
24The stillness and the broken lights.
25Twelve struck. That sound, by dwindling years
26 Heard in each hour, crept off; and then
27 The ruffled silence spread again,
28Like water that a pebble stirs.
29Our mother rose from where she sat:
30 Her needles, as she laid them down,
31 Met lightly, and her silken gown
32Settled: no other noise than that.
33"Glory unto the Newly Born!"
34 So, as said angels, she did say;
35 Because we were in Christmas Day,
36Though it would still be long till morn.
37Just then in the room over us
38 There was a pushing back of chairs,
39 As some who had sat unawares
40So late, now heard the hour, and rose.
41With anxious softly-stepping haste
42 Our mother went where Margaret lay,
43 Fearing the sounds o'erhead--should they
44Have broken her long watch'd-for rest!
45She stoop'd an instant, calm, and turn'd;
46 But suddenly turn'd back again;
47 And all her features seem'd in pain
48With woe, and her eyes gaz'd and yearn'd.
49For my part, I but hid my face,
50 And held my breath, and spoke no word:
51 There was none spoken; but I heard
52The silence for a little space.
53Our mother bow'd herself and wept:
54 And both my arms fell, and I said,
55 "God knows I knew that she was dead."
56And there, all white, my sister slept.
57Then kneeling, upon Christmas morn
58 A little after twelve o'clock
59 We said, ere the first quarter struck,
60 "Christ's blessing on the newly born!"
Notes
1] Written in 1847, expanded for publication in the first issue of the Pre-Raphaelite journal, The Germ, January 1850, and further revised before the publication of Rossetti's volume, Poems, 1870. The stanza form employed here was made famous by Tennyson's In Memoriam, published four months after "My Sister's Sleep" appeared in The Germ. The poem has no basis in the circumstances of Rossetti's life.
Online text copyright © 2009, Ian Lancashire (the Department of English) and the University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.
Original text: Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Poems (London: Ellis and White, 1881). end R677 A155 1881 Fisher Rare Book Library (Toronto).
First publication date:
January
1850
Publication date note: The Germ (Jan. 1850)
RPO poem editor: Margaret Frances (Sister St. Francis) Nims
RP edition: 3RP 3.262.
Recent editing: 2:2002/3/13
Composition date:
1847
Rhyme: abba
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