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    Goblin Market and Other Poems
    Goblin Market and Other Poems
    Goblin Market and Other Poems
    Ebook181 pages2 hours

    Goblin Market and Other Poems

    By Christina Rossetti

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    About this ebook

    In this representative collection of Christina Rossetti’s poems we find a vast array of narrative tales, love lyrics, sonnets, hymns, ballads, and sprightly verses for children. Ranked among the finest English poets of the nineteenth century, Christina Rossetti is a widely read, though not widely imitated poet, recognized for her devotional poetry, influenced by the religious conservatism and asceticism of the Church of England. This collection of poems includes her most renowned work, “Goblin Market”, a narrative poem which tells the tale of two sisters, Laura and Lizzie, who are tempted by river goblins. Also included in this collection is “The Prince’s Progress”, a tragic tale of loss concerning a princess awaiting the return of her prince. Rossetti’s poetry is remarkable for its clarity and simplicity of diction in dealing with themes of truth, beauty, love, death, heavenly joys, earthly pleasures, and purity of faith. All together seventy-one poems are contained herein “Goblin Market and Other Poems”, a collection of endearing works of inward contemplation and timeless vision which will inspire and delight readers of all ages.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDigireads.com Publishing
    Release dateSep 21, 2020
    ISBN9781420977417
    Author

    Christina Rossetti

    Christina Rossetti was born in 1830 in London. She was the youngest child in a creative Italian family, which included her famous brother Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Their father, a poet and political exile from Italy, fell ill when Rossetti was a teenager and the family suffered financial difficulty. Rossetti started writing at a young age and her poems were often influenced by her religious faith. She published various poems in literary magazines, but it was Goblin Market & Other Poems, published in 1862 to great acclaim, that established her position as a prominent poet. She became ill towards the end of her life, first from Graves’ disease and then from cancer, but she continued to write until her death in 1894.

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    Reviews for Goblin Market and Other Poems

    4/5

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    • 4/5
      Christina was the youngest of the glamorous and talented Rossetti siblings, three-quarter-Italian and brought up in England in the intellectual afterglow of the Byron circle. Apart from being one of the most distinguished women poets of her time (her only real competitor on this side of the Atlantic being Elizabeth Barrett Browning), she's also remembered as the model for many of her big brother's paintings, especially as the Virgin Mary. And, like her brother and the other Pre-Raphaelites, she was heavily involved with the Oxford Movement, a religious revival that aimed to restore some lost medieval piety and glamour to Anglicanism, but ended up sending some of its most prominent followers into the arms of Rome. Partly for religious reasons, Christina never married, although she had at least three offers. Goblin Market and other poems was Christina's first properly-published collection. The title-poem — her best-known piece after "In the bleak midwinter" — is an odd kind of fairy-tale ballad about two sisters who get involved with a bunch of dodgy supernatural fruit-and-veg salesmen, naive on the surface, but full of all kinds of troubling sexual and religious undercurrents when you start to look at it closely — perfect exam-syllabus material, especially since it's written with so much verve and assurance that it's always great fun to re-read. And the girls come out on top in the end, which helps!The rest of the collection is a bit mixed, but there's a lot of good stuff there. Short lyric poems where the poet imagines herself abandoned by her lover, rejecting a suitor, widowed, marrying in the presence of a former lover's ghost, lamenting the transience of life and the seasons, etc. Possibly there is a little more focus on death than we might be entirely comfortable with as modern readers: there is a remarkable number of poems in which the speaker of the poem turns out to be talking to us from beyond the grave. Not surprising to learn that Christina had some struggles with depression during her life. But some of these poems are among the strongest in the collection, like the sonnets "After Death" and "Dead before death". Or "Sweet Death" in the religious section at the end. And just occasionally there's a wry touch of humour, as in "No, thank you, John", a woman's exasperated complaint to a tedious suitor straight out of a three-volume novel, who thinks he just has to go on proposing to her for her to realise that she loves him. Another notable long poem is "The convent threshold", which seems to be a kind of pendant to her brother's "Blessed Damozel" — the speaker of the poem is a woman who has been involved in a relationship that has gone wrong in some unspecified but spectacular way involving lots of blood. She has repented and is entering a convent, but on the doorstep she pauses to urge her lover to do the same, so that they can be reunited in Paradise later. You sinned with me a pleasant sin:Repent with me, for I repent.Woe's me the lore I must unlearn!Woe's me that easy way we went,So rugged when I would return!It's fun to re-read these poems after a gap without much exposure to Victorian poetry: sometimes what Rossetti has to say about religious and female experience might seem a little trite and obvious in hindsight, but that probably wasn't the case at the time, and it's clear that she meant every word of it. What remains striking above all is the confidence and strength with which she fits her deceptively simple language into a precision-aligned poetic structure.
    • 4/5
      The title poem is so overwhelmingly sensuous that it belies the restraint theme. I interpret it as closer to an addiction->withdrawal tale where Laura gets the high and Lizzie the withdrawal. As for the rest, there, right in the middle of flowery death, wasNo, Thank You, John(excerpt)"Let Bygones be bygones:Don't call me false, who owed not to be true:I'd rather answer "No" to fifty JohnsThan answer "Yes" to you."There was another moment or two, but nothing so memorable in the -when I'm gone- and -life is vanity, true living is in heaven- verses that follow.
    • 4/5
      Not a regular poetry reader, but found this lying around the house and checked it out. A lot of fun, great gothic imagery and sadness.
    • 4/5
      Perhaps an ideal children's story — scary, but comes out right in the end. A bit moralistic, but certainly works on a child's imagination.
    • 5/5
      I often find that when I write reviews I waffle on far too much. All I can say about this book is that I find myself wanting more. I want to drink in more of Christinas' poetry and find out more about her, her life and history. I was introduced to her through my love of her brothers' art. Dantes' art and Christina's poetry seem so compatible. The Goblin Market is such a wonderful tale of desire, wanting, haunting and love. So much more than the initial thoughts (at the time) of it being a children's poem. Her other works in this book are so beautiful I cannot describe them in my words. These lack the poetic beauty Rossetti conjures. There is so much sadness, love and, yes, hope in these verses. I love poetry but, up until now, have never found one that I could say 'Yes, this is IT'. But, reading this, I feel in Christina Rossetti, I have indeed found 'it'. I only wish I could conjure up so much emotion and feeling through my use of words as she
    • 4/5
      When I was a teenager I loved Christina Rossetti poems. Shortly after we moved back to California in the early 90’s I picked up this book but never got around to reading it. I stumbled across it a few days ago and decided this would be a good time to get it off my TBR pile. This is a Dover edition of the first book Rossetti published. I decided to save Goblin Market until last because it is quite long and I wanted to get back into her style before I tackled it. It was a wise decision. I’ve been reading a lot of 20th century poetry and at first it was a little difficult to get back into the rhythm of 19th century poetry-which, when I was a teenage I “specialized’ in! But once I got into the flow I once again became immersed in Rossetti’s world. Her poems are haunting and often sad. The introduction quotes Virginia Woolf as saying “Death, oblivion, and rest lap around your songs with their dark wave.” Her two main themes are sensual love and religious devotion. In her life she eventually renounced the first for the second. I now realize why I loved her so much back then. At sixteen I wanted to become a nun—and I wasn’t even Catholic. Even after all these years, I enjoyed these poems. Most were ones I either hadn’t ever read or have forgotten but I also encountered some “old friends.” I plan to look for more of her poems to see how she matured as a poet. My favorite poem of hers wasn’t in this book.
    • 5/5
      Beautiful poetry. The imagery is so vivid you can almost taste the fruit.
    • 5/5
      Lush, lovely poetry.

    Book preview

    Goblin Market and Other Poems - Christina Rossetti

    cover.jpg

    GOBLIN MARKET

    AND OTHER POEMS

    By CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

    Goblin Market and Other Poems

    By Christina Rossetti

    Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-7574-1

    eBook ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-7741-7

    This edition copyright © 2021. Digireads.com Publishing.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

    Cover Image: a detail of an illustration for Goblin Market, by Frank Adams, from Children’s stories from the Poets by M. D. Belgrave and H. Hart, published by Raphael Tuck & Sons Ltd, London, circa 1920 / Bridgeman Images.

    Please visit www.digireads.com

    CONTENTS

    FROM GOBLIN MARKET, AND OTHER POEMS (1862)

    GOBLIN MARKET

    DREAM LAND

    AT HOME

    A TRIAD

    WINTER RAIN

    COUSIN KATE

    SPRING

    A BIRTHDAY

    REMEMBER

    AFTER DEATH

    AN END

    MY DREAM

    SONG

    THE HOUR AND THE GHOST

    A SUMMER WISH

    AN APPLE GATHERING

    SONG

    MAUDE CLARE

    ECHO

    WINTER: MY SECRET

    ANOTHER SPRING

    A PEAL OF BELLS

    FATA MORGANA

    ‘NO, THANK YOU, JOHN’

    MAY

    A PAUSE OF THOUGHT

    TWILIGHT CALM

    MIRAGE

    SONG

    SISTER MAUDE

    THE FIRST SPRING DAY

    THE CONVENT THRESHOLD

    UP-HILL

    ‘A BRUISED REED SHALL HE NOT BREAK’

    A BETTER RESURRECTION

    THE THREE ENEMIES

    THE ONE CERTAINTY

    SWEET DEATH

    THE WORLD

    A TESTIMONY

    SLEEP AT SEA

    FROM HOUSE TO HOME

    FROM THE PRINCE’S PROGRESS, AND OTHER POEMS (1866)

    JESSIE CAMERON

    SPRING QUIET

    A PORTRAIT

    DREAM-LOVE

    TWICE

    SONGS IN A CORNFIELD

    THE QUEEN OF HEARTS

    ONE DAY

    A BIRD’S-EYE VIEW

    ON THE WING (A DREAM)

    BEAUTY IS VAIN

    WHAT WOULD I GIVE?

    THE BOURNE

    SUMMER

    THE GHOST’S PETITION

    MEMORY

    A ROYAL PRINCESS

    SHALL I FORGET?

    VANITY OF VANITIES

    L. E. L.

    LIFE AND DEATH

    GROWN AND FLOWN

    CHILD’S TALK IN APRIL

    DESPISED AND REJECTED

    THE LOWEST PLACE

    FROM GOBLIN MARKET, THE PRINCE’S PROGRESS AND OTHER POEMS (1875)

    CONSIDER

    A SMILE AND A SIGH

    PARADISE: IN A DREAM

    FROM NEW POEMS, HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED OR UNCOLLECTED (1896)

    REPINING

    LAST NIGHT

    SLEEPING AT LAST

    From GOBLIN MARKET, AND OTHER POEMS (1862)

    GOBLIN MARKET

    Morning and evening

    Maids heard the goblins cry:

    ‘Come buy our orchard fruits,

    Come buy, come buy:

    Apples and quinces,

    Lemons and oranges,

    Plump unpecked cherries,

    Melons and raspberries,

    Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,

    Swart-headed mulberries,

    Wild free-born cranberries,

    Crab-apples, dewberries,

    Pine-apples, blackberries,

    Apricots, strawberries;—

    All ripe together

    In summer weather,—

    Morns that pass by,

    Fair eves that fly;

    Come buy, come buy:

    Our grapes fresh from the vine,

    Pomegranates full and fine,

    Dates and sharp bullaces,

    Rare pears and greengages,

    Damsons and bilberries,

    Taste them and try:

    Currants and gooseberries,

    Bright-fire-like barberries,

    Figs to fill your mouth,

    Citrons from the South,

    Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;

    Come buy, come buy.’

    Evening by evening

    Among the brookside rushes,

    Laura bowed her head to hear,

    Lizzie veiled her blushes:

    Crouching close together

    In the cooling weather,

    With clasping arms and cautioning lips,

    With tingling cheeks and finger tips.

    ‘Lie close,’ Laura said,

    Pricking up her golden head:

    ‘We must not look at goblin men,

    We must not buy their fruits:

    Who knows upon what soil they fed

    Their hungry thirsty roots?’

    ‘Come buy,’ call the goblins

    Hobbling down the glen.

    ‘Oh,’ cried Lizzie, ‘Laura, Laura,

    You should not peep at goblin men.’

    Lizzie covered up her eyes,

    Covered close lest they should look;

    Laura reared her glossy head,

    And whispered like the restless brook:

    ‘Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,

    Down the glen tramp little men.

    One hauls a basket,

    One bears a plate,

    One lugs a golden dish

    Of many pounds weight.

    How fair the vine must grow

    Whose grapes are so luscious;

    How warm the wind must blow

    Through those fruit bushes.’

    ‘No,’ said Lizzie, ‘No, no, no;

    Their offers should not charm us,

    Their evil gifts would harm us.’

    She thrust a dimpled finger

    In each ear, shut eyes and ran:

    Curious Laura chose to linger

    Wondering at each merchant man.

    One had a cat’s face,

    One whisked a tail,

    One tramped at a rat’s pace,

    One crawled like a snail,

    One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,

    One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.

    She heard a voice like voice of doves

    Cooing all together:

    They sounded kind and full of loves

    In the pleasant weather.

    Laura stretched her gleaming neck

    Like a rush-imbedded swan,

    Like a lily from the beck,

    Like a moonlit poplar branch,

    Like a vessel at the launch

    When its last restraint is gone.

    Backwards up the mossy glen

    Turned and trooped the goblin men,

    With their shrill repeated cry,

    ‘Come buy, come buy.’

    When they reached where Laura was

    They stood stock still upon the moss,

    Leering at each other,

    Brother with queer brother;

    Signalling each other,

    Brother with sly brother.

    One set his basket down,

    One reared his plate;

    One began to weave a crown

    Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown0

    (Men sell not such in any town);

    One heaved the golden weight

    Of dish and fruit to offer her:

    ‘Come buy, come buy,’ was still their cry.

    Laura stared but did not stir,

    Longed but had no money:

    The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste

    In tones as smooth as honey,

    The cat-faced purr’d,

    The rat-faced spoke a word

    Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;

    One parrot-voiced and jolly

    Cried ‘Pretty Goblin’ still for ‘Pretty Polly;’—

    One whistled like a bird.

    But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:

    ‘Good folk, I have no coin;

    To take were to purloin:

    I have no copper in my purse,

    I have no silver either,

    And all my gold is on the furze

    That shakes in windy weather

    Above the rusty heather.’

    ‘You have much gold upon your head,’

    They answered all together:

    ‘Buy from us with a golden curl.’

    She clipped a precious golden lock,

    She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,

    Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red:

    Sweeter than honey from the rock,

    Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,

    Clearer than water flowed that juice;

    She never tasted such before,

    How should it cloy with length of use?

    She sucked and sucked and sucked the more

    Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;

    She sucked until her lips were sore;

    Then flung the emptied rinds away

    But gathered up one kernel stone,

    And knew not was it night or day

    As she turned home alone.

    Lizzie met her at the gate

    Full of wise upbraidings:

    ‘Dear, you should not stay so late,

    Twilight is not good for maidens;

    Should not loiter in the glen

    In the haunts of goblin men.

    Do you not remember Jeanie,

    How she met them in the moonlight,

    Took their gifts both choice and many,

    Ate their fruits and wore their flowers

    Plucked from bowers

    Where summer ripens

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