“Symbols”: A Poem by Christina Rossetti

I watched a rosebud very long

     Brought on by dew and sun and shower,

     Waiting to see the perfect flower:

Then, when I thought it should be strong,

     It opened at the matin hour

And fell at evensong.

 

I watched a nest from day to day,

     A green nest full of peasant shade,

     Wherein three speckled eggs were laid:

But when they should have hatched in May,

     The two old birds had grown afraid

Or tired, and flew away.

 

Then, in my wrath I broke the bough

     That I had tended so with care,

     Hoping its scent should fill the air;

I crushed the eggs, not heeding how

     Their ancient promise had been fair:

I would have vengence now.

 

But the dead branch spoke from the sod,

     And the eggs answered me again:

     Because we failed dost thou complain?

Is thy wrath just? And what if God,

     Who waiteth for thy fruits in vain,

Should also take the rod?