CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI

��783. Uphill

"T\OES the road wind uphill all the way :'

• -* Yes, to the very end.

Will the day's journey take the whole long day ? From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?

A roof for when the slow, dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face ?

You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night ?

Those who have gone before. Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?

They will not keep you waiting at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak ?

Of labour you shall iind the sum. Will there be beds for me and all who seek ?

Yea, beds for all who come.

��784. Passing Away

ASS ING away, saith the World, passing away: Chances, beauty and youth sapp'd day by day :

Thy life never continueth in one stay.

Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to gray

That hath won neither laurel nor bay ?

I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May :

Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay

On my bosom for aye.

Then I answer'd: Yea.

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