CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI  343

Our  Johnny,  when  he  understood

Which  shop  it  was  that  purchased  hair,

Ran  off  as  briskly  as  he  could,

And  in  a  trice  stood  cropped  and  bare,

Too  short  of  hair  to  fill  a  locket.
But  jingling  money  in  his  pocket.
Precious  money,  tea  and  bread.
Physic,  ease,  for  mother  dear,

Better  than  a  golden  head  :
Yet  our  hero  dropped  a  tear.
When  he  spied  himself  close-shorn,

Barer  much  than  lamb  new-born.
His  mother  throve  upon  the  money.
Ate  and  revived,  and  kissed  her  son  :

But  oh  !  when  she  perceived  her  Johnny,
And  understood  what  he  had  done.
All  and  only  for  her  sake.
She  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  would  break.
Christina  Rossetti.
344  CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI.
BUDS  AND  BABIES.
A  MILLION  buds  are  born  that  never  blow,
That  sweet  with  promise  lift  a  pretty  head,
To  blush  and  wither  on  a  barren  bed,

And  leave  no  fruit  to  show.
Sweet,  unfulfilled.     Yet  have  I  understood
One  joy,  by  their  fragility,  made  plain  ;
Nothing  was  ever  beautiful  in  vain.
Or  all  in  vain  was  good.
Christina  Rossetti.
JEAN  INGELOW.  345

THE  SNOWDROP  MONUMENT.
(Z^  Lichfield  Cathedral.)

Marvels  of  sleep  grown  cold  !

Who  hath  not  longed  to  fold
With  pitying  ruth,  forgetful  of  their  bliss,

Those  cherub  forms  that  lie,

With  none  to  watch  them  nigh,
Or  touch  the  silent  hps  with  one  warm  human  kiss  ?

What !  they  are  left  alone

All  night  with  graven  stone,
Pillars  and  arches  that  above  them  meet ;

While  through  those  windows  high

The  journeying  stars  can  spy,
And  dim  blue  moonbeams  drop  on  their  uncovered  feet !

O  cold !  yet  look  again^

There  is  a  wandering  vein
Traced  in  the  hand  where  those  white  snowdrops  lie.
