Herself a rose, who bore the Rose

Perhaps every year I have told myself I should blog some of Christina Rossetti's Advent and Christmas poems, and so this year I will begin. As well as being written by Christina Rossetti, this poem also features the rose, which has become a symbol also of Christmas (if you've never read this post by Lanier Ivester, you really should), so it's especially significant.

So here is the first. This one doesn't appear to have a title, but it should soon become apparent what it is about. The picture above is of St Saviour's rose (a rose bred in celebration of our local St Saviour's Cathedral, but aptly titled for Advent). Like a lot of Christina's poem, this one is also a song (though that doesn't especially appeal to me).

Herself a rose, who bore the Rose, She bore the Rose and felt its thorn. All Loveliness new-born Took on her bosom its repose, And slept and woke there night and morn.

Lily herself, she bore the one Fair Lily; sweeter, whiter, far Than she or others are: The Sun of Righteousness her Son, She was His morning star.

She gracious, He essential Grace, He was the Fountain, she the rill: Her goodness to fulfil And gladness, with proportioned pace He led her steps through good and ill.

Christ's mirror she of grace and love, Of beauty and of life and death: By hope and love and faith Transfigured to His likeness, 'Dove, Spouse, Sister, Mother,' Jesus saith.

Christina Georgina Rossetti