Poetry Sunday: A Dirge
Last week, I read The Cuckoo's Calling by Robert Galbraith, aka J.K. Rowling, and I enjoyed it immensely. I learned that the rather enigmatic name of the book was taken from an evocative and affecting poem by Christina Rossetti called A Dirge. Let's make it the featured poem of the week.
Why were you born when the snow was falling?
You should have come to the cuckoo’s calling,
Or when grapes are green in the cluster,
Or, at least, when lithe swallows muster
For their far off flying
From summer dying.
Why did you die when the lambs were cropping?
You should have died at the apples’ dropping,
When the grasshopper comes to trouble,
And the wheat-fields are sodden stubble,
And all winds go sighing
For sweet things dying.