My life is like a faded leaf, My harvest dwindled to a husk; Truly my life is void and brief And tedious in the barren dusk. My life is like a frozen thing, No bud nor greenness can I see. Yet rise it shall--the sap of spring. O Jesus, rise in me. My life is like a broken bowl, A broken bowl that cannot hold One drop of water for my soul Or cordial in the searching cold. Cast in the fire the perished thing; Melt and remould it, till it be A royal cup for Him, my King. O Jesus, drink of me. Or the third of the "Old and New Year Ditties?" Passing away, saith the World, passing away; Chances, beauty, and youth sapped day by day; Thy life never continueth in one stay, Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to grey That hath won neither laurel nor bay? I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May; Thou, root-stricken, shall not rebuild thy decay On my bosom for aye. Then I answered, Yea. Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away, With its burden of fear and hope, of labour and play. Hearken what the past doth witness and say: Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array, A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay. At midnight, at cockcrow, at morning, one certain day, Lo! the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay; Watch, thou, and pray. Then I answered, Yea. Passing away, saith my God, passing away; Winter passeth after the long delay; New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray, Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven's May. Though I tarry, wait for Me, trust Me, watch and pray, Arise, come away, night is past, and lo! it is day, My love, My sister, My spouse, thou shalt hear Me say. Then I answered, Yea. The last-mentioned poem is indeed worthy of a technical remark. It is written in an irregular dactylic metre, the longer lines having a beat of five accents, the shorter of three or two; but the whole scheme of rhyme, all three stanzas--a common form with Miss Rossetti--is actually built upon one single rhyme throughout. For such a conception one would be inclined to predicate certain failure; the simplicity is too rude and daring; but consider the result. For sheer simplicity again note her "Christmas Carol": In the bleak mid-winter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak mid-winter, Long ago. Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, Nor earth sustain; Heaven and earth shall flee away, When He comes to reign. In the bleak mid-winter A stable-place sufficed The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.