Up-Hill by Christina Rossetti

Since my previous poem is about traveling, naturally I can’t pretend it wasn’t inspired by one of my old-time favorites, Up-Hill by Christina Rossetti, which has this sort of unknown magic within that it makes me reread it over and over. In this poem, Rossetti adopts a simple strategy – conversation – between two men, one is full of doubts and questions, the other is a Mr. Know-It-All. The charm begins with the road winding up-hill all the way, and it ends with beds – the ultimate, universal symbol of comfort and death – that wait for all who seek and come.

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Does the road wind up-hill 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 standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.

Filed under: poetry, writers, Christina Rossetti, classics, death, peotry, reading, Writer, writing

Poetry: Perfume

Like C’mon, this work was finished when I was stuck in a really bad mood. It reflects a bit of my personal experience, which isn’t always good for some imaginary work though.

Let the Perfume touch me
As it always wants to
But it’s my bare hand that holds it
A bottle filled with smelly liquid.

It’s not you who approaches me
(Have you ever wanted to?)
But it’s the cursed nature of physics
Busying itself with a sorrowful fool.

Filed under: poetry, love, melancholy, peotry, perfume, relationship, writing