Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
This may seem like a fairly morbid subject matter to blog about, but I find this poem incredibly moving and beautiful. The poem explores the concept of an afterlife and suggests that we are only truly conscious once we reach this stage. It captures the sense of abandonment that you can sometimes feel as you flow through life - the knowledge that to a certain extent you can just float along and be carried by the natural momentum. Conversely, I also feel a tenacious desire to not be led along expecting some great enlightenment and to mould my passage through conscious and moral will.
The paintings that follow the poem are all the work of Mabel Alvarez, a Spanish-American artist of the twentieth century. The link between the art and the poem is rather tenuous, yet the pensive gazes of the women in the art fits the sombre, contemplative mood that Rossetti bottles in the words of the poem. I don't know - it just seems apt! Also, here is a quote from a poem by Alvarez called 'Pale Abalone Shell':
I stand on the edge of a crater
I gaze down into a curved moonlight void.
In the centre is a strange, shining world.
It floats in frightening space.
One could fall off the edge of this world.
I stand on the edge of a crater
I gaze down into a curved moonlight void.
In the centre is a strange, shining world.
It floats in frightening space.
One could fall off the edge of this world.
I am sure to have fairly existentialist dreams tonight.
