The Woodspurge

From Frances Rossetti’s diary about her son, Dante Gabriel’s funeral, which took place at Birchington-on-Sea on Friday, April 10, 1882.

“I placed on the grave a bunch of simple flowers, among which were woodspurge and forget- me-nots. Christina had gathered these in the grounds and conservatory.”

The Woodspurge

The wind flapped loose, the wind was still,
Shaken out dead from tree and hill:
I had walked on at the wind's will, —
I sat now, for the wind was still.

Between my knees my forehead was, —
My lips, drawn in, said not Alas!
My hair was over in the grass,
My naked ears heard the day pass[.]

My eyes, wide open, had the run
Of some ten weeds to fix upon;
Among those few, out of the sun,
The woodspurge flowered, three cups in one.

From perfect grief there need not be
Wisdom or even memory:
One thing then learnt remains to me, —
The woodspurge has a cup of three.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1856

Posted courtesy of Dinah Roe