{"id":48,"date":"2021-06-02T11:32:15","date_gmt":"2021-06-02T15:32:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/victoriananthology\/?post_type=chapter&p=48"},"modified":"2022-01-28T11:40:45","modified_gmt":"2022-01-28T16:40:45","slug":"goblin-market","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/chapter\/goblin-market\/","title":{"raw":"\"Goblin Market\"","rendered":"“Goblin Market”"},"content":{"raw":"

By Christina Rossetti (1862)<\/span><\/h2>\r\n
Morning and evening<\/div>\r\n
Maids heard the goblins cry:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cCome buy our orchard fruits,<\/div>\r\n
Come buy, come buy:<\/div>\r\n
Apples and quinces,<\/div>\r\n
Lemons and oranges,<\/div>\r\n
Plump unpeck\u2019d cherries,<\/div>\r\n
Melons and raspberries,<\/div>\r\n
Bloom-down-cheek\u2019d peaches,<\/div>\r\n
Swart-headed mulberries,<\/div>\r\n
Wild free-born cranberries,<\/div>\r\n
Crab-apples, dewberries,<\/div>\r\n
Pine-apples, blackberries,<\/div>\r\n
Apricots, strawberries;\u2014<\/div>\r\n
All ripe together<\/div>\r\n
In summer weather,\u2014<\/div>\r\n
Morns that pass by,<\/div>\r\n
Fair eves that fly;<\/div>\r\n
Come buy, come buy:<\/div>\r\n
Our grapes fresh from the vine,<\/div>\r\n
Pomegranates full and fine,<\/div>\r\n
Dates and sharp bullaces,<\/div>\r\n
Rare pears and greengages,<\/div>\r\n
Damsons and bilberries,<\/div>\r\n
Taste them and try:<\/div>\r\n
Currants and gooseberries,<\/div>\r\n
Bright-fire-like barberries,<\/div>\r\n
Figs to fill your mouth,<\/div>\r\n
Citrons from the South,<\/div>\r\n
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nCome buy, come buy.\u201d\r\n\r\nEvening by evening\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Among the brookside rushes,<\/div>\r\n
Laura bow\u2019d her head to hear,<\/div>\r\n
Lizzie veil\u2019d her blushes:<\/div>\r\n
Crouching close together<\/div>\r\n
In the cooling weather,<\/div>\r\n
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,<\/div>\r\n
With tingling cheeks and finger tips.<\/div>\r\n
\u201cLie close,\u201d Laura said,<\/div>\r\n
Pricking up her golden head:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cWe must not look at goblin men,<\/div>\r\n
We must not buy their fruits:<\/div>\r\n
Who knows upon what soil they fed<\/div>\r\n
Their hungry thirsty roots?\u201d<\/div>\r\n
\u201cCome buy,\u201d call the goblins<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nHobbling down the glen.\r\n\r\n\u201cOh,\u201d cried Lizzie, \u201cLaura, Laura,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
You should not peep at goblin men.\u201d<\/div>\r\n
Lizzie cover\u2019d up her eyes,<\/div>\r\n
Cover\u2019d close lest they should look;<\/div>\r\n
Laura rear\u2019d her glossy head,<\/div>\r\n
And whisper\u2019d like the restless brook:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cLook, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,<\/div>\r\n
Down the glen tramp little men.<\/div>\r\n
One hauls a basket,<\/div>\r\n
One bears a plate,<\/div>\r\n
One lugs a golden dish<\/div>\r\n
Of many pounds weight.<\/div>\r\n
How fair the vine must grow<\/div>\r\n
Whose grapes are so luscious;<\/div>\r\n
How warm the wind must blow<\/div>\r\n
Through those fruit bushes.\u201d<\/div>\r\n
\u201cNo,\u201d said Lizzie, \u201cNo, no, no;<\/div>\r\n
Their offers should not charm us,<\/div>\r\n
Their evil gifts would harm us.\u201d<\/div>\r\n
She thrust a dimpled finger<\/div>\r\n
In each ear, shut eyes and ran:<\/div>\r\n
Curious Laura chose to linger<\/div>\r\n
Wondering at each merchant man.<\/div>\r\n
One had a cat\u2019s face,<\/div>\r\n
One whisk\u2019d a tail,<\/div>\r\n
One tramp\u2019d at a rat\u2019s pace,<\/div>\r\n
One crawl\u2019d like a snail,<\/div>\r\n
One like a wombat prowl\u2019d obtuse and furry,<\/div>\r\n
One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.<\/div>\r\n
She heard a voice like voice of doves<\/div>\r\n
Cooing all together:<\/div>\r\n
They sounded kind and full of loves<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nIn the pleasant weather.\r\n\r\nLaura stretch\u2019d her gleaming neck\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Like a rush-imbedded swan,<\/div>\r\n
Like a lily from the beck,<\/div>\r\n
Like a moonlit poplar branch,<\/div>\r\n
Like a vessel at the launch<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nWhen its last restraint is gone.\r\n\r\nBackwards up the mossy glen\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Turn\u2019d and troop\u2019d the goblin men,<\/div>\r\n
With their shrill repeated cry,<\/div>\r\n
\u201cCome buy, come buy.\u201d<\/div>\r\n
When they reach\u2019d where Laura was<\/div>\r\n
They stood stock still upon the moss,<\/div>\r\n
Leering at each other,<\/div>\r\n
Brother with queer brother;<\/div>\r\n
Signalling each other,<\/div>\r\n
Brother with sly brother.<\/div>\r\n
One set his basket down,<\/div>\r\n
One rear\u2019d his plate;<\/div>\r\n
One began to weave a crown<\/div>\r\n
Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown<\/div>\r\n
(Men sell not such in any town);<\/div>\r\n
One heav\u2019d the golden weight<\/div>\r\n
Of dish and fruit to offer her:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cCome buy, come buy,\u201d was still their cry.<\/div>\r\n
Laura stared but did not stir,<\/div>\r\n
Long\u2019d but had no money:<\/div>\r\n
The whisk-tail\u2019d merchant bade her taste<\/div>\r\n
In tones as smooth as honey,<\/div>\r\n
The cat-faced purr\u2019d,<\/div>\r\n
The rat-faced spoke a word<\/div>\r\n
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;<\/div>\r\n
One parrot-voiced and jolly<\/div>\r\n
Cried \u201cPretty Goblin\u201d still for \u201cPretty Polly;\u201d\u2014<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nOne whistled like a bird.\r\n\r\nBut sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
\u201cGood folk, I have no coin;<\/div>\r\n
To take were to purloin:<\/div>\r\n
I have no copper in my purse,<\/div>\r\n
I have no silver either,<\/div>\r\n
And all my gold is on the furze<\/div>\r\n
That shakes in windy weather<\/div>\r\n
Above the rusty heather.\u201d<\/div>\r\n
\u201cYou have much gold upon your head,\u201d<\/div>\r\n
They answer\u2019d all together:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cBuy from us with a golden curl.\u201d<\/div>\r\n
She clipp\u2019d a precious golden lock,<\/div>\r\n
She dropp\u2019d a tear more rare than pearl,<\/div>\r\n
Then suck\u2019d their fruit globes fair or red:<\/div>\r\n
Sweeter than honey from the rock,<\/div>\r\n
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,<\/div>\r\n
Clearer than water flow\u2019d that juice;<\/div>\r\n
She never tasted such before,<\/div>\r\n
How should it cloy with length of use?<\/div>\r\n
She suck\u2019d and suck\u2019d and suck\u2019d the more<\/div>\r\n
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;<\/div>\r\n
She suck\u2019d until her lips were sore;<\/div>\r\n
Then flung the emptied rinds away<\/div>\r\n
But gather\u2019d up one kernel stone,<\/div>\r\n
And knew not was it night or day<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nAs she turn\u2019d home alone.\r\n\r\nLizzie met her at the gate\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Full of wise upbraidings:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cDear, you should not stay so late,<\/div>\r\n
Twilight is not good for maidens;<\/div>\r\n
Should not loiter in the glen<\/div>\r\n
In the haunts of goblin men.<\/div>\r\n
Do you not remember Jeanie,<\/div>\r\n
How she met them in the moonlight,<\/div>\r\n
Took their gifts both choice and many,<\/div>\r\n
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers<\/div>\r\n
Pluck\u2019d from bowers<\/div>\r\n
Where summer ripens at all hours?<\/div>\r\n
But ever in the noonlight<\/div>\r\n
She pined and pined away;<\/div>\r\n
Sought them by night and day,<\/div>\r\n
Found them no more, but dwindled and grew grey;<\/div>\r\n
Then fell with the first snow,<\/div>\r\n
While to this day no grass will grow<\/div>\r\n
Where she lies low:<\/div>\r\n
I planted daisies there a year ago<\/div>\r\n
That never blow.<\/div>\r\n
You should not loiter so.\u201d<\/div>\r\n
\u201cNay, hush,\u201d said Laura:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cNay, hush, my sister:<\/div>\r\n
I ate and ate my fill,<\/div>\r\n
Yet my mouth waters still;<\/div>\r\n
To-morrow night I will<\/div>\r\n
Buy more;\u201d and kiss\u2019d her:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cHave done with sorrow;<\/div>\r\n
I\u2019ll bring you plums to-morrow<\/div>\r\n
Fresh on their mother twigs,<\/div>\r\n
Cherries worth getting;<\/div>\r\n
You cannot think what figs<\/div>\r\n
My teeth have met in,<\/div>\r\n
What melons icy-cold<\/div>\r\n
Piled on a dish of gold<\/div>\r\n
Too huge for me to hold,<\/div>\r\n
What peaches with a velvet nap,<\/div>\r\n
Pellucid grapes without one seed:<\/div>\r\n
Odorous indeed must be the mead<\/div>\r\n
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink<\/div>\r\n
With lilies at the brink,<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nAnd sugar-sweet their sap.\u201d\r\n\r\nGolden head by golden head,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Like two pigeons in one nest<\/div>\r\n
Folded in each other\u2019s wings,<\/div>\r\n
They lay down in their curtain\u2019d bed:<\/div>\r\n
Like two blossoms on one stem,<\/div>\r\n
Like two flakes of new-fall\u2019n snow,<\/div>\r\n
Like two wands of ivory<\/div>\r\n
Tipp\u2019d with gold for awful kings.<\/div>\r\n
Moon and stars gaz\u2019d in at them,<\/div>\r\n
Wind sang to them lullaby,<\/div>\r\n
Lumbering owls forbore to fly,<\/div>\r\n
Not a bat flapp\u2019d to and fro<\/div>\r\n
Round their rest:<\/div>\r\n
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nLock\u2019d together in one nest.\r\n\r\nEarly in the morning\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
When the first cock crow\u2019d his warning,<\/div>\r\n
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,<\/div>\r\n
Laura rose with Lizzie:<\/div>\r\n
Fetch\u2019d in honey, milk\u2019d the cows,<\/div>\r\n
Air\u2019d and set to rights the house,<\/div>\r\n
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,<\/div>\r\n
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,<\/div>\r\n
Next churn\u2019d butter, whipp\u2019d up cream,<\/div>\r\n
Fed their poultry, sat and sew\u2019d;<\/div>\r\n
Talk\u2019d as modest maidens should:<\/div>\r\n
Lizzie with an open heart,<\/div>\r\n
Laura in an absent dream,<\/div>\r\n
One content, one sick in part;<\/div>\r\n
One warbling for the mere bright day\u2019s delight,<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nOne longing for the night.\r\n\r\nAt length slow evening came:\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;<\/div>\r\n
Lizzie most placid in her look,<\/div>\r\n
Laura most like a leaping flame.<\/div>\r\n
They drew the gurgling water from its deep;<\/div>\r\n
Lizzie pluck\u2019d purple and rich golden flags,<\/div>\r\n
Then turning homeward said: \u201cThe sunset flushes<\/div>\r\n
Those furthest loftiest crags;<\/div>\r\n
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags.<\/div>\r\n
No wilful squirrel wags,<\/div>\r\n
The beasts and birds are fast asleep.\u201d<\/div>\r\n
But Laura loiter\u2019d still among the rushes<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nAnd said the bank was steep.\r\n\r\nAnd said the hour was early still\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
The dew not fall\u2019n, the wind not chill;<\/div>\r\n
Listening ever, but not catching<\/div>\r\n
The customary cry,<\/div>\r\n
\u201cCome buy, come buy,\u201d<\/div>\r\n
With its iterated jingle<\/div>\r\n
Of sugar-baited words:<\/div>\r\n
Not for all her watching<\/div>\r\n
Once discerning even one goblin<\/div>\r\n
Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;<\/div>\r\n
Let alone the herds<\/div>\r\n
That used to tramp along the glen,<\/div>\r\n
In groups or single,<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nOf brisk fruit-merchant men.\r\n\r\nTill Lizzie urged, \u201cO Laura, come;\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look:<\/div>\r\n
You should not loiter longer at this brook:<\/div>\r\n
Come with me home.<\/div>\r\n
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,<\/div>\r\n
Each glowworm winks her spark,<\/div>\r\n
Let us get home before the night grows dark:<\/div>\r\n
For clouds may gather<\/div>\r\n
Though this is summer weather,<\/div>\r\n
Put out the lights and drench us through;<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nThen if we lost our way what should we do?\u201d\r\n\r\nLaura turn\u2019d cold as stone\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
To find her sister heard that cry alone,<\/div>\r\n
That goblin cry,<\/div>\r\n
\u201cCome buy our fruits, come buy.\u201d<\/div>\r\n
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?<\/div>\r\n
Must she no more such succous pasture find,<\/div>\r\n
Gone deaf and blind?<\/div>\r\n
Her tree of life droop\u2019d from the root:<\/div>\r\n
She said not one word in her heart\u2019s sore ache;<\/div>\r\n
But peering thro\u2019 the dimness, nought discerning,<\/div>\r\n
Trudg\u2019d home, her pitcher dripping all the way;<\/div>\r\n
So crept to bed, and lay<\/div>\r\n
Silent till Lizzie slept;<\/div>\r\n
Then sat up in a passionate yearning,<\/div>\r\n
And gnash\u2019d her teeth for baulk\u2019d desire, and wept<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nAs if her heart would break.\r\n\r\nDay after day, night after night,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Laura kept watch in vain<\/div>\r\n
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.<\/div>\r\n
She never caught again the goblin cry:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cCome buy, come buy;\u201d\u2014<\/div>\r\n
She never spied the goblin men<\/div>\r\n
Hawking their fruits along the glen:<\/div>\r\n
But when the noon wax\u2019d bright<\/div>\r\n
Her hair grew thin and grey;<\/div>\r\n
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn<\/div>\r\n
To swift decay and burn<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nHer fire away.\r\n\r\nOne day remembering her kernel-stone\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
She set it by a wall that faced the south;<\/div>\r\n
Dew\u2019d it with tears, hoped for a root,<\/div>\r\n
Watch\u2019d for a waxing shoot,<\/div>\r\n
But there came none;<\/div>\r\n
It never saw the sun,<\/div>\r\n
It never felt the trickling moisture run:<\/div>\r\n
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth<\/div>\r\n
She dream\u2019d of melons, as a traveller sees<\/div>\r\n
False waves in desert drouth<\/div>\r\n
With shade of leaf-crown\u2019d trees,<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nAnd burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.\r\n\r\nShe no more swept the house,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Tended the fowls or cows,<\/div>\r\n
Fetch\u2019d honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,<\/div>\r\n
Brought water from the brook:<\/div>\r\n
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nAnd would not eat.\r\n\r\nTender Lizzie could not bear\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
To watch her sister\u2019s cankerous care<\/div>\r\n
Yet not to share.<\/div>\r\n
She night and morning<\/div>\r\n
Caught the goblins\u2019 cry:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cCome buy our orchard fruits,<\/div>\r\n
Come buy, come buy;\u201d\u2014<\/div>\r\n
Beside the brook, along the glen,<\/div>\r\n
She heard the tramp of goblin men,<\/div>\r\n
The yoke and stir<\/div>\r\n
Poor Laura could not hear;<\/div>\r\n
Long\u2019d to buy fruit to comfort her,<\/div>\r\n
But fear\u2019d to pay too dear.<\/div>\r\n
She thought of Jeanie in her grave,<\/div>\r\n
Who should have been a bride;<\/div>\r\n
But who for joys brides hope to have<\/div>\r\n
Fell sick and died<\/div>\r\n
In her gay prime,<\/div>\r\n
In earliest winter time<\/div>\r\n
With the first glazing rime,<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nWith the first snow-fall of crisp winter time.\r\n\r\nTill Laura dwindling\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Seem\u2019d knocking at Death\u2019s door:<\/div>\r\n
Then Lizzie weigh\u2019d no more<\/div>\r\n
Better and worse;<\/div>\r\n
But put a silver penny in her purse,<\/div>\r\n
Kiss\u2019d Laura, cross\u2019d the heath with clumps of furze<\/div>\r\n
At twilight, halted by the brook:<\/div>\r\n
And for the first time in her life<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nBegan to listen and look.\r\n\r\nLaugh\u2019d every goblin\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
When they spied her peeping:<\/div>\r\n
Came towards her hobbling,<\/div>\r\n
Flying, running, leaping,<\/div>\r\n
Puffing and blowing,<\/div>\r\n
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,<\/div>\r\n
Clucking and gobbling,<\/div>\r\n
Mopping and mowing,<\/div>\r\n
Full of airs and graces,<\/div>\r\n
Pulling wry faces,<\/div>\r\n
Demure grimaces,<\/div>\r\n
Cat-like and rat-like,<\/div>\r\n
Ratel- and wombat-like,<\/div>\r\n
Snail-paced in a hurry,<\/div>\r\n
Parrot-voiced and whistler,<\/div>\r\n
Helter skelter, hurry skurry,<\/div>\r\n
Chattering like magpies,<\/div>\r\n
Fluttering like pigeons,<\/div>\r\n
Gliding like fishes,\u2014<\/div>\r\n
Hugg\u2019d her and kiss\u2019d her:<\/div>\r\n
Squeez\u2019d and caress\u2019d her:<\/div>\r\n
Stretch\u2019d up their dishes,<\/div>\r\n
Panniers, and plates:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cLook at our apples<\/div>\r\n
Russet and dun,<\/div>\r\n
Bob at our cherries,<\/div>\r\n
Bite at our peaches,<\/div>\r\n
Citrons and dates,<\/div>\r\n
Grapes for the asking,<\/div>\r\n
Pears red with basking<\/div>\r\n
Out in the sun,<\/div>\r\n
Plums on their twigs;<\/div>\r\n
Pluck them and suck them,<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nPomegranates, figs.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cGood folk,\u201d said Lizzie,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Mindful of Jeanie:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cGive me much and many: \u2014<\/div>\r\n
Held out her apron,<\/div>\r\n
Toss\u2019d them her penny.<\/div>\r\n
\u201cNay, take a seat with us,<\/div>\r\n
Honour and eat with us,\u201d<\/div>\r\n
They answer\u2019d grinning:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cOur feast is but beginning.<\/div>\r\n
Night yet is early,<\/div>\r\n
Warm and dew-pearly,<\/div>\r\n
Wakeful and starry:<\/div>\r\n
Such fruits as these<\/div>\r\n
No man can carry:<\/div>\r\n
Half their bloom would fly,<\/div>\r\n
Half their dew would dry,<\/div>\r\n
Half their flavour would pass by.<\/div>\r\n
Sit down and feast with us,<\/div>\r\n
Be welcome guest with us,<\/div>\r\n
Cheer you and rest with us.\u201d\u2014<\/div>\r\n
\u201cThank you,\u201d said Lizzie: \u201cBut one waits<\/div>\r\n
At home alone for me:<\/div>\r\n
So without further parleying,<\/div>\r\n
If you will not sell me any<\/div>\r\n
Of your fruits though much and many,<\/div>\r\n
Give me back my silver penny<\/div>\r\n
I toss\u2019d you for a fee.\u201d\u2014<\/div>\r\n
They began to scratch their pates,<\/div>\r\n
No longer wagging, purring,<\/div>\r\n
But visibly demurring,<\/div>\r\n
Grunting and snarling.<\/div>\r\n
One call\u2019d her proud,<\/div>\r\n
Cross-grain\u2019d, uncivil;<\/div>\r\n
Their tones wax\u2019d loud,<\/div>\r\n
Their looks were evil.<\/div>\r\n
Lashing their tails<\/div>\r\n
They trod and hustled her,<\/div>\r\n
Elbow\u2019d and jostled her,<\/div>\r\n
Claw\u2019d with their nails,<\/div>\r\n
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,<\/div>\r\n
Tore her gown and soil\u2019d her stocking,<\/div>\r\n
Twitch\u2019d her hair out by the roots,<\/div>\r\n
Stamp\u2019d upon her tender feet,<\/div>\r\n
Held her hands and squeez\u2019d their fruits<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nAgainst her mouth to make her eat.\r\n\r\nWhite and golden Lizzie stood,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Like a lily in a flood,\u2014<\/div>\r\n
Like a rock of blue-vein\u2019d stone<\/div>\r\n
Lash\u2019d by tides obstreperously,\u2014<\/div>\r\n
Like a beacon left alone<\/div>\r\n
In a hoary roaring sea,<\/div>\r\n
Sending up a golden fire,\u2014<\/div>\r\n
Like a fruit-crown\u2019d orange-tree<\/div>\r\n
White with blossoms honey-sweet<\/div>\r\n
Sore beset by wasp and bee,\u2014<\/div>\r\n
Like a royal virgin town<\/div>\r\n
Topp\u2019d with gilded dome and spire<\/div>\r\n
Close beleaguer\u2019d by a fleet<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nMad to tug her standard down.\r\n\r\nOne may lead a horse to water,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Twenty cannot make him drink.<\/div>\r\n
Though the goblins cuff\u2019d and caught her,<\/div>\r\n
Coax\u2019d and fought her,<\/div>\r\n
Bullied and besought her,<\/div>\r\n
Scratch\u2019d her, pinch\u2019d her black as ink,<\/div>\r\n
Kick\u2019d and knock\u2019d her,<\/div>\r\n
Maul\u2019d and mock\u2019d her,<\/div>\r\n
Lizzie utter\u2019d not a word;<\/div>\r\n
Would not open lip from lip<\/div>\r\n
Lest they should cram a mouthful in:<\/div>\r\n
But laugh\u2019d in heart to feel the drip<\/div>\r\n
Of juice that syrupp\u2019d all her face,<\/div>\r\n
And lodg\u2019d in dimples of her chin,<\/div>\r\n
And streak\u2019d her neck which quaked like curd.<\/div>\r\n
At last the evil people,<\/div>\r\n
Worn out by her resistance,<\/div>\r\n
Flung back her penny, kick\u2019d their fruit<\/div>\r\n
Along whichever road they took,<\/div>\r\n
Not leaving root or stone or shoot;<\/div>\r\n
Some writh\u2019d into the ground,<\/div>\r\n
Some div\u2019d into the brook<\/div>\r\n
With ring and ripple,<\/div>\r\n
Some scudded on the gale without a sound,<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nSome vanish\u2019d in the distance.\r\n\r\nIn a smart, ache, tingle,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Lizzie went her way;<\/div>\r\n
Knew not was it night or day;<\/div>\r\n
Sprang up the bank, tore thro\u2019 the furze,<\/div>\r\n
Threaded copse and dingle,<\/div>\r\n
And heard her penny jingle<\/div>\r\n
Bouncing in her purse,\u2014<\/div>\r\n
Its bounce was music to her ear.<\/div>\r\n
She ran and ran<\/div>\r\n
As if she fear\u2019d some goblin man<\/div>\r\n
Dogg\u2019d her with gibe or curse<\/div>\r\n
Or something worse:<\/div>\r\n
But not one goblin scurried after,<\/div>\r\n
Nor was she prick\u2019d by fear;<\/div>\r\n
The kind heart made her windy-paced<\/div>\r\n
That urged her home quite out of breath with haste<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nAnd inward laughter.\r\n\r\nShe cried, \u201cLaura,\u201d up the garden,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
\u201cDid you miss me?<\/div>\r\n
Come and kiss me.<\/div>\r\n
Never mind my bruises,<\/div>\r\n
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices<\/div>\r\n
Squeez\u2019d from goblin fruits for you,<\/div>\r\n
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.<\/div>\r\n
Eat me, drink me, love me;<\/div>\r\n
Laura, make much of me;<\/div>\r\n
For your sake I have braved the glen<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nAnd had to do with goblin merchant men.\u201d\r\n\r\nLaura started from her chair,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Flung her arms up in the air,<\/div>\r\n
Clutch\u2019d her hair:<\/div>\r\n
\u201cLizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted<\/div>\r\n
For my sake the fruit forbidden?<\/div>\r\n
Must your light like mine be hidden,<\/div>\r\n
Your young life like mine be wasted,<\/div>\r\n
Undone in mine undoing,<\/div>\r\n
And ruin\u2019d in my ruin,<\/div>\r\n
Thirsty, canker\u2019d, goblin-ridden?\u201d\u2014<\/div>\r\n
She clung about her sister,<\/div>\r\n
Kiss\u2019d and kiss\u2019d and kiss\u2019d her:<\/div>\r\n
Tears once again<\/div>\r\n
Refresh\u2019d her shrunken eyes,<\/div>\r\n
Dropping like rain<\/div>\r\n
After long sultry drouth;<\/div>\r\n
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nShe kiss\u2019d and kiss\u2019d her with a hungry mouth.\r\n\r\nHer lips began to scorch,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,<\/div>\r\n
She loath\u2019d the feast:<\/div>\r\n
Writhing as one possess\u2019d she leap\u2019d and sung,<\/div>\r\n
Rent all her robe, and wrung<\/div>\r\n
Her hands in lamentable haste,<\/div>\r\n
And beat her breast.<\/div>\r\n
Her locks stream\u2019d like the torch<\/div>\r\n
Borne by a racer at full speed,<\/div>\r\n
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,<\/div>\r\n
Or like an eagle when she stems the light<\/div>\r\n
Straight toward the sun,<\/div>\r\n
Or like a caged thing freed,<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nOr like a flying flag when armies run.\r\n\r\nSwift fire spread through her veins, knock\u2019d at her heart,\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Met the fire smouldering there<\/div>\r\n
And overbore its lesser flame;<\/div>\r\n
She gorged on bitterness without a name:<\/div>\r\n
Ah! fool, to choose such part<\/div>\r\n
Of soul-consuming care!<\/div>\r\n
Sense fail\u2019d in the mortal strife:<\/div>\r\n
Like the watch-tower of a town<\/div>\r\n
Which an earthquake shatters down,<\/div>\r\n
Like a lightning-stricken mast,<\/div>\r\n
Like a wind-uprooted tree<\/div>\r\n
Spun about,<\/div>\r\n
Like a foam-topp\u2019d waterspout<\/div>\r\n
Cast down headlong in the sea,<\/div>\r\n
She fell at last;<\/div>\r\n
Pleasure past and anguish past,<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nIs it death or is it life?\r\n\r\nLife out of death.\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
That night long Lizzie watch\u2019d by her,<\/div>\r\n
Counted her pulse\u2019s flagging stir,<\/div>\r\n
Felt for her breath,<\/div>\r\n
Held water to her lips, and cool\u2019d her face<\/div>\r\n
With tears and fanning leaves:<\/div>\r\n
But when the first birds chirp\u2019d about their eaves,<\/div>\r\n
And early reapers plodded to the place<\/div>\r\n
Of golden sheaves,<\/div>\r\n
And dew-wet grass<\/div>\r\n
Bow\u2019d in the morning winds so brisk to pass,<\/div>\r\n
And new buds with new day<\/div>\r\n
Open\u2019d of cup-like lilies on the stream,<\/div>\r\n
Laura awoke as from a dream,<\/div>\r\n
Laugh\u2019d in the innocent old way,<\/div>\r\n
Hugg\u2019d Lizzie but not twice or thrice;<\/div>\r\n
Her gleaming locks show\u2019d not one thread of grey,<\/div>\r\n
Her breath was sweet as May<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nAnd light danced in her eyes.\r\n\r\nDays, weeks, months, years\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
Afterwards, when both were wives<\/div>\r\n
With children of their own;<\/div>\r\n
Their mother-hearts beset with fears,<\/div>\r\n
Their lives bound up in tender lives;<\/div>\r\n
Laura would call the little ones<\/div>\r\n
And tell them of her early prime,<\/div>\r\n
Those pleasant days long gone<\/div>\r\n
Of not-returning time:<\/div>\r\n
Would talk about the haunted glen,<\/div>\r\n
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,<\/div>\r\n
Their fruits like honey to the throat<\/div>\r\n
But poison in the blood;<\/div>\r\n
(Men sell not such in any town):<\/div>\r\n
Would tell them how her sister stood<\/div>\r\n
In deadly peril to do her good,<\/div>\r\n
And win the fiery antidote:<\/div>\r\n
Then joining hands to little hands<\/div>\r\n
Would bid them cling together,<\/div>\r\n
\u201cFor there is no friend like a sister<\/div>\r\n
In calm or stormy weather;<\/div>\r\n
To cheer one on the tedious way,<\/div>\r\n
To fetch one if one goes astray,<\/div>\r\n
To lift one if one totters down,<\/div>\r\n
To strengthen whilst one stands.\u201d<\/div>","rendered":"

By Christina Rossetti (1862)<\/span><\/h2>\n
Morning and evening<\/div>\n
Maids heard the goblins cry:<\/div>\n
\u201cCome buy our orchard fruits,<\/div>\n
Come buy, come buy:<\/div>\n
Apples and quinces,<\/div>\n
Lemons and oranges,<\/div>\n
Plump unpeck\u2019d cherries,<\/div>\n
Melons and raspberries,<\/div>\n
Bloom-down-cheek\u2019d peaches,<\/div>\n
Swart-headed mulberries,<\/div>\n
Wild free-born cranberries,<\/div>\n
Crab-apples, dewberries,<\/div>\n
Pine-apples, blackberries,<\/div>\n
Apricots, strawberries;\u2014<\/div>\n
All ripe together<\/div>\n
In summer weather,\u2014<\/div>\n
Morns that pass by,<\/div>\n
Fair eves that fly;<\/div>\n
Come buy, come buy:<\/div>\n
Our grapes fresh from the vine,<\/div>\n
Pomegranates full and fine,<\/div>\n
Dates and sharp bullaces,<\/div>\n
Rare pears and greengages,<\/div>\n
Damsons and bilberries,<\/div>\n
Taste them and try:<\/div>\n
Currants and gooseberries,<\/div>\n
Bright-fire-like barberries,<\/div>\n
Figs to fill your mouth,<\/div>\n
Citrons from the South,<\/div>\n
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;<\/div>\n
\n

Come buy, come buy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evening by evening<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Among the brookside rushes,<\/div>\n
Laura bow\u2019d her head to hear,<\/div>\n
Lizzie veil\u2019d her blushes:<\/div>\n
Crouching close together<\/div>\n
In the cooling weather,<\/div>\n
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,<\/div>\n
With tingling cheeks and finger tips.<\/div>\n
\u201cLie close,\u201d Laura said,<\/div>\n
Pricking up her golden head:<\/div>\n
\u201cWe must not look at goblin men,<\/div>\n
We must not buy their fruits:<\/div>\n
Who knows upon what soil they fed<\/div>\n
Their hungry thirsty roots?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cCome buy,\u201d call the goblins<\/div>\n
\n

Hobbling down the glen.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d cried Lizzie, \u201cLaura, Laura,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

You should not peep at goblin men.\u201d<\/div>\n
Lizzie cover\u2019d up her eyes,<\/div>\n
Cover\u2019d close lest they should look;<\/div>\n
Laura rear\u2019d her glossy head,<\/div>\n
And whisper\u2019d like the restless brook:<\/div>\n
\u201cLook, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,<\/div>\n
Down the glen tramp little men.<\/div>\n
One hauls a basket,<\/div>\n
One bears a plate,<\/div>\n
One lugs a golden dish<\/div>\n
Of many pounds weight.<\/div>\n
How fair the vine must grow<\/div>\n
Whose grapes are so luscious;<\/div>\n
How warm the wind must blow<\/div>\n
Through those fruit bushes.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d said Lizzie, \u201cNo, no, no;<\/div>\n
Their offers should not charm us,<\/div>\n
Their evil gifts would harm us.\u201d<\/div>\n
She thrust a dimpled finger<\/div>\n
In each ear, shut eyes and ran:<\/div>\n
Curious Laura chose to linger<\/div>\n
Wondering at each merchant man.<\/div>\n
One had a cat\u2019s face,<\/div>\n
One whisk\u2019d a tail,<\/div>\n
One tramp\u2019d at a rat\u2019s pace,<\/div>\n
One crawl\u2019d like a snail,<\/div>\n
One like a wombat prowl\u2019d obtuse and furry,<\/div>\n
One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.<\/div>\n
She heard a voice like voice of doves<\/div>\n
Cooing all together:<\/div>\n
They sounded kind and full of loves<\/div>\n
\n

In the pleasant weather.<\/p>\n

Laura stretch\u2019d her gleaming neck<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Like a rush-imbedded swan,<\/div>\n
Like a lily from the beck,<\/div>\n
Like a moonlit poplar branch,<\/div>\n
Like a vessel at the launch<\/div>\n
\n

When its last restraint is gone.<\/p>\n

Backwards up the mossy glen<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Turn\u2019d and troop\u2019d the goblin men,<\/div>\n
With their shrill repeated cry,<\/div>\n
\u201cCome buy, come buy.\u201d<\/div>\n
When they reach\u2019d where Laura was<\/div>\n
They stood stock still upon the moss,<\/div>\n
Leering at each other,<\/div>\n
Brother with queer brother;<\/div>\n
Signalling each other,<\/div>\n
Brother with sly brother.<\/div>\n
One set his basket down,<\/div>\n
One rear\u2019d his plate;<\/div>\n
One began to weave a crown<\/div>\n
Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown<\/div>\n
(Men sell not such in any town);<\/div>\n
One heav\u2019d the golden weight<\/div>\n
Of dish and fruit to offer her:<\/div>\n
\u201cCome buy, come buy,\u201d was still their cry.<\/div>\n
Laura stared but did not stir,<\/div>\n
Long\u2019d but had no money:<\/div>\n
The whisk-tail\u2019d merchant bade her taste<\/div>\n
In tones as smooth as honey,<\/div>\n
The cat-faced purr\u2019d,<\/div>\n
The rat-faced spoke a word<\/div>\n
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;<\/div>\n
One parrot-voiced and jolly<\/div>\n
Cried \u201cPretty Goblin\u201d still for \u201cPretty Polly;\u201d\u2014<\/div>\n
\n

One whistled like a bird.<\/p>\n

But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cGood folk, I have no coin;<\/div>\n
To take were to purloin:<\/div>\n
I have no copper in my purse,<\/div>\n
I have no silver either,<\/div>\n
And all my gold is on the furze<\/div>\n
That shakes in windy weather<\/div>\n
Above the rusty heather.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYou have much gold upon your head,\u201d<\/div>\n
They answer\u2019d all together:<\/div>\n
\u201cBuy from us with a golden curl.\u201d<\/div>\n
She clipp\u2019d a precious golden lock,<\/div>\n
She dropp\u2019d a tear more rare than pearl,<\/div>\n
Then suck\u2019d their fruit globes fair or red:<\/div>\n
Sweeter than honey from the rock,<\/div>\n
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,<\/div>\n
Clearer than water flow\u2019d that juice;<\/div>\n
She never tasted such before,<\/div>\n
How should it cloy with length of use?<\/div>\n
She suck\u2019d and suck\u2019d and suck\u2019d the more<\/div>\n
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;<\/div>\n
She suck\u2019d until her lips were sore;<\/div>\n
Then flung the emptied rinds away<\/div>\n
But gather\u2019d up one kernel stone,<\/div>\n
And knew not was it night or day<\/div>\n
\n

As she turn\u2019d home alone.<\/p>\n

Lizzie met her at the gate<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Full of wise upbraidings:<\/div>\n
\u201cDear, you should not stay so late,<\/div>\n
Twilight is not good for maidens;<\/div>\n
Should not loiter in the glen<\/div>\n
In the haunts of goblin men.<\/div>\n
Do you not remember Jeanie,<\/div>\n
How she met them in the moonlight,<\/div>\n
Took their gifts both choice and many,<\/div>\n
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers<\/div>\n
Pluck\u2019d from bowers<\/div>\n
Where summer ripens at all hours?<\/div>\n
But ever in the noonlight<\/div>\n
She pined and pined away;<\/div>\n
Sought them by night and day,<\/div>\n
Found them no more, but dwindled and grew grey;<\/div>\n
Then fell with the first snow,<\/div>\n
While to this day no grass will grow<\/div>\n
Where she lies low:<\/div>\n
I planted daisies there a year ago<\/div>\n
That never blow.<\/div>\n
You should not loiter so.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNay, hush,\u201d said Laura:<\/div>\n
\u201cNay, hush, my sister:<\/div>\n
I ate and ate my fill,<\/div>\n
Yet my mouth waters still;<\/div>\n
To-morrow night I will<\/div>\n
Buy more;\u201d and kiss\u2019d her:<\/div>\n
\u201cHave done with sorrow;<\/div>\n
I\u2019ll bring you plums to-morrow<\/div>\n
Fresh on their mother twigs,<\/div>\n
Cherries worth getting;<\/div>\n
You cannot think what figs<\/div>\n
My teeth have met in,<\/div>\n
What melons icy-cold<\/div>\n
Piled on a dish of gold<\/div>\n
Too huge for me to hold,<\/div>\n
What peaches with a velvet nap,<\/div>\n
Pellucid grapes without one seed:<\/div>\n
Odorous indeed must be the mead<\/div>\n
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink<\/div>\n
With lilies at the brink,<\/div>\n
\n

And sugar-sweet their sap.\u201d<\/p>\n

Golden head by golden head,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Like two pigeons in one nest<\/div>\n
Folded in each other\u2019s wings,<\/div>\n
They lay down in their curtain\u2019d bed:<\/div>\n
Like two blossoms on one stem,<\/div>\n
Like two flakes of new-fall\u2019n snow,<\/div>\n
Like two wands of ivory<\/div>\n
Tipp\u2019d with gold for awful kings.<\/div>\n
Moon and stars gaz\u2019d in at them,<\/div>\n
Wind sang to them lullaby,<\/div>\n
Lumbering owls forbore to fly,<\/div>\n
Not a bat flapp\u2019d to and fro<\/div>\n
Round their rest:<\/div>\n
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast<\/div>\n
\n

Lock\u2019d together in one nest.<\/p>\n

Early in the morning<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

When the first cock crow\u2019d his warning,<\/div>\n
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,<\/div>\n
Laura rose with Lizzie:<\/div>\n
Fetch\u2019d in honey, milk\u2019d the cows,<\/div>\n
Air\u2019d and set to rights the house,<\/div>\n
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,<\/div>\n
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,<\/div>\n
Next churn\u2019d butter, whipp\u2019d up cream,<\/div>\n
Fed their poultry, sat and sew\u2019d;<\/div>\n
Talk\u2019d as modest maidens should:<\/div>\n
Lizzie with an open heart,<\/div>\n
Laura in an absent dream,<\/div>\n
One content, one sick in part;<\/div>\n
One warbling for the mere bright day\u2019s delight,<\/div>\n
\n

One longing for the night.<\/p>\n

At length slow evening came:<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;<\/div>\n
Lizzie most placid in her look,<\/div>\n
Laura most like a leaping flame.<\/div>\n
They drew the gurgling water from its deep;<\/div>\n
Lizzie pluck\u2019d purple and rich golden flags,<\/div>\n
Then turning homeward said: \u201cThe sunset flushes<\/div>\n
Those furthest loftiest crags;<\/div>\n
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags.<\/div>\n
No wilful squirrel wags,<\/div>\n
The beasts and birds are fast asleep.\u201d<\/div>\n
But Laura loiter\u2019d still among the rushes<\/div>\n
\n

And said the bank was steep.<\/p>\n

And said the hour was early still<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

The dew not fall\u2019n, the wind not chill;<\/div>\n
Listening ever, but not catching<\/div>\n
The customary cry,<\/div>\n
\u201cCome buy, come buy,\u201d<\/div>\n
With its iterated jingle<\/div>\n
Of sugar-baited words:<\/div>\n
Not for all her watching<\/div>\n
Once discerning even one goblin<\/div>\n
Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;<\/div>\n
Let alone the herds<\/div>\n
That used to tramp along the glen,<\/div>\n
In groups or single,<\/div>\n
\n

Of brisk fruit-merchant men.<\/p>\n

Till Lizzie urged, \u201cO Laura, come;<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look:<\/div>\n
You should not loiter longer at this brook:<\/div>\n
Come with me home.<\/div>\n
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,<\/div>\n
Each glowworm winks her spark,<\/div>\n
Let us get home before the night grows dark:<\/div>\n
For clouds may gather<\/div>\n
Though this is summer weather,<\/div>\n
Put out the lights and drench us through;<\/div>\n
\n

Then if we lost our way what should we do?\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura turn\u2019d cold as stone<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

To find her sister heard that cry alone,<\/div>\n
That goblin cry,<\/div>\n
\u201cCome buy our fruits, come buy.\u201d<\/div>\n
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?<\/div>\n
Must she no more such succous pasture find,<\/div>\n
Gone deaf and blind?<\/div>\n
Her tree of life droop\u2019d from the root:<\/div>\n
She said not one word in her heart\u2019s sore ache;<\/div>\n
But peering thro\u2019 the dimness, nought discerning,<\/div>\n
Trudg\u2019d home, her pitcher dripping all the way;<\/div>\n
So crept to bed, and lay<\/div>\n
Silent till Lizzie slept;<\/div>\n
Then sat up in a passionate yearning,<\/div>\n
And gnash\u2019d her teeth for baulk\u2019d desire, and wept<\/div>\n
\n

As if her heart would break.<\/p>\n

Day after day, night after night,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Laura kept watch in vain<\/div>\n
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.<\/div>\n
She never caught again the goblin cry:<\/div>\n
\u201cCome buy, come buy;\u201d\u2014<\/div>\n
She never spied the goblin men<\/div>\n
Hawking their fruits along the glen:<\/div>\n
But when the noon wax\u2019d bright<\/div>\n
Her hair grew thin and grey;<\/div>\n
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn<\/div>\n
To swift decay and burn<\/div>\n
\n

Her fire away.<\/p>\n

One day remembering her kernel-stone<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

She set it by a wall that faced the south;<\/div>\n
Dew\u2019d it with tears, hoped for a root,<\/div>\n
Watch\u2019d for a waxing shoot,<\/div>\n
But there came none;<\/div>\n
It never saw the sun,<\/div>\n
It never felt the trickling moisture run:<\/div>\n
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth<\/div>\n
She dream\u2019d of melons, as a traveller sees<\/div>\n
False waves in desert drouth<\/div>\n
With shade of leaf-crown\u2019d trees,<\/div>\n
\n

And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.<\/p>\n

She no more swept the house,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Tended the fowls or cows,<\/div>\n
Fetch\u2019d honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,<\/div>\n
Brought water from the brook:<\/div>\n
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook<\/div>\n
\n

And would not eat.<\/p>\n

Tender Lizzie could not bear<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

To watch her sister\u2019s cankerous care<\/div>\n
Yet not to share.<\/div>\n
She night and morning<\/div>\n
Caught the goblins\u2019 cry:<\/div>\n
\u201cCome buy our orchard fruits,<\/div>\n
Come buy, come buy;\u201d\u2014<\/div>\n
Beside the brook, along the glen,<\/div>\n
She heard the tramp of goblin men,<\/div>\n
The yoke and stir<\/div>\n
Poor Laura could not hear;<\/div>\n
Long\u2019d to buy fruit to comfort her,<\/div>\n
But fear\u2019d to pay too dear.<\/div>\n
She thought of Jeanie in her grave,<\/div>\n
Who should have been a bride;<\/div>\n
But who for joys brides hope to have<\/div>\n
Fell sick and died<\/div>\n
In her gay prime,<\/div>\n
In earliest winter time<\/div>\n
With the first glazing rime,<\/div>\n
\n

With the first snow-fall of crisp winter time.<\/p>\n

Till Laura dwindling<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Seem\u2019d knocking at Death\u2019s door:<\/div>\n
Then Lizzie weigh\u2019d no more<\/div>\n
Better and worse;<\/div>\n
But put a silver penny in her purse,<\/div>\n
Kiss\u2019d Laura, cross\u2019d the heath with clumps of furze<\/div>\n
At twilight, halted by the brook:<\/div>\n
And for the first time in her life<\/div>\n
\n

Began to listen and look.<\/p>\n

Laugh\u2019d every goblin<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

When they spied her peeping:<\/div>\n
Came towards her hobbling,<\/div>\n
Flying, running, leaping,<\/div>\n
Puffing and blowing,<\/div>\n
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,<\/div>\n
Clucking and gobbling,<\/div>\n
Mopping and mowing,<\/div>\n
Full of airs and graces,<\/div>\n
Pulling wry faces,<\/div>\n
Demure grimaces,<\/div>\n
Cat-like and rat-like,<\/div>\n
Ratel- and wombat-like,<\/div>\n
Snail-paced in a hurry,<\/div>\n
Parrot-voiced and whistler,<\/div>\n
Helter skelter, hurry skurry,<\/div>\n
Chattering like magpies,<\/div>\n
Fluttering like pigeons,<\/div>\n
Gliding like fishes,\u2014<\/div>\n
Hugg\u2019d her and kiss\u2019d her:<\/div>\n
Squeez\u2019d and caress\u2019d her:<\/div>\n
Stretch\u2019d up their dishes,<\/div>\n
Panniers, and plates:<\/div>\n
\u201cLook at our apples<\/div>\n
Russet and dun,<\/div>\n
Bob at our cherries,<\/div>\n
Bite at our peaches,<\/div>\n
Citrons and dates,<\/div>\n
Grapes for the asking,<\/div>\n
Pears red with basking<\/div>\n
Out in the sun,<\/div>\n
Plums on their twigs;<\/div>\n
Pluck them and suck them,<\/div>\n
\n

Pomegranates, figs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood folk,\u201d said Lizzie,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Mindful of Jeanie:<\/div>\n
\u201cGive me much and many: \u2014<\/div>\n
Held out her apron,<\/div>\n
Toss\u2019d them her penny.<\/div>\n
\u201cNay, take a seat with us,<\/div>\n
Honour and eat with us,\u201d<\/div>\n
They answer\u2019d grinning:<\/div>\n
\u201cOur feast is but beginning.<\/div>\n
Night yet is early,<\/div>\n
Warm and dew-pearly,<\/div>\n
Wakeful and starry:<\/div>\n
Such fruits as these<\/div>\n
No man can carry:<\/div>\n
Half their bloom would fly,<\/div>\n
Half their dew would dry,<\/div>\n
Half their flavour would pass by.<\/div>\n
Sit down and feast with us,<\/div>\n
Be welcome guest with us,<\/div>\n
Cheer you and rest with us.\u201d\u2014<\/div>\n
\u201cThank you,\u201d said Lizzie: \u201cBut one waits<\/div>\n
At home alone for me:<\/div>\n
So without further parleying,<\/div>\n
If you will not sell me any<\/div>\n
Of your fruits though much and many,<\/div>\n
Give me back my silver penny<\/div>\n
I toss\u2019d you for a fee.\u201d\u2014<\/div>\n
They began to scratch their pates,<\/div>\n
No longer wagging, purring,<\/div>\n
But visibly demurring,<\/div>\n
Grunting and snarling.<\/div>\n
One call\u2019d her proud,<\/div>\n
Cross-grain\u2019d, uncivil;<\/div>\n
Their tones wax\u2019d loud,<\/div>\n
Their looks were evil.<\/div>\n
Lashing their tails<\/div>\n
They trod and hustled her,<\/div>\n
Elbow\u2019d and jostled her,<\/div>\n
Claw\u2019d with their nails,<\/div>\n
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,<\/div>\n
Tore her gown and soil\u2019d her stocking,<\/div>\n
Twitch\u2019d her hair out by the roots,<\/div>\n
Stamp\u2019d upon her tender feet,<\/div>\n
Held her hands and squeez\u2019d their fruits<\/div>\n
\n

Against her mouth to make her eat.<\/p>\n

White and golden Lizzie stood,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Like a lily in a flood,\u2014<\/div>\n
Like a rock of blue-vein\u2019d stone<\/div>\n
Lash\u2019d by tides obstreperously,\u2014<\/div>\n
Like a beacon left alone<\/div>\n
In a hoary roaring sea,<\/div>\n
Sending up a golden fire,\u2014<\/div>\n
Like a fruit-crown\u2019d orange-tree<\/div>\n
White with blossoms honey-sweet<\/div>\n
Sore beset by wasp and bee,\u2014<\/div>\n
Like a royal virgin town<\/div>\n
Topp\u2019d with gilded dome and spire<\/div>\n
Close beleaguer\u2019d by a fleet<\/div>\n
\n

Mad to tug her standard down.<\/p>\n

One may lead a horse to water,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Twenty cannot make him drink.<\/div>\n
Though the goblins cuff\u2019d and caught her,<\/div>\n
Coax\u2019d and fought her,<\/div>\n
Bullied and besought her,<\/div>\n
Scratch\u2019d her, pinch\u2019d her black as ink,<\/div>\n
Kick\u2019d and knock\u2019d her,<\/div>\n
Maul\u2019d and mock\u2019d her,<\/div>\n
Lizzie utter\u2019d not a word;<\/div>\n
Would not open lip from lip<\/div>\n
Lest they should cram a mouthful in:<\/div>\n
But laugh\u2019d in heart to feel the drip<\/div>\n
Of juice that syrupp\u2019d all her face,<\/div>\n
And lodg\u2019d in dimples of her chin,<\/div>\n
And streak\u2019d her neck which quaked like curd.<\/div>\n
At last the evil people,<\/div>\n
Worn out by her resistance,<\/div>\n
Flung back her penny, kick\u2019d their fruit<\/div>\n
Along whichever road they took,<\/div>\n
Not leaving root or stone or shoot;<\/div>\n
Some writh\u2019d into the ground,<\/div>\n
Some div\u2019d into the brook<\/div>\n
With ring and ripple,<\/div>\n
Some scudded on the gale without a sound,<\/div>\n
\n

Some vanish\u2019d in the distance.<\/p>\n

In a smart, ache, tingle,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Lizzie went her way;<\/div>\n
Knew not was it night or day;<\/div>\n
Sprang up the bank, tore thro\u2019 the furze,<\/div>\n
Threaded copse and dingle,<\/div>\n
And heard her penny jingle<\/div>\n
Bouncing in her purse,\u2014<\/div>\n
Its bounce was music to her ear.<\/div>\n
She ran and ran<\/div>\n
As if she fear\u2019d some goblin man<\/div>\n
Dogg\u2019d her with gibe or curse<\/div>\n
Or something worse:<\/div>\n
But not one goblin scurried after,<\/div>\n
Nor was she prick\u2019d by fear;<\/div>\n
The kind heart made her windy-paced<\/div>\n
That urged her home quite out of breath with haste<\/div>\n
\n

And inward laughter.<\/p>\n

She cried, \u201cLaura,\u201d up the garden,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cDid you miss me?<\/div>\n
Come and kiss me.<\/div>\n
Never mind my bruises,<\/div>\n
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices<\/div>\n
Squeez\u2019d from goblin fruits for you,<\/div>\n
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.<\/div>\n
Eat me, drink me, love me;<\/div>\n
Laura, make much of me;<\/div>\n
For your sake I have braved the glen<\/div>\n
\n

And had to do with goblin merchant men.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura started from her chair,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Flung her arms up in the air,<\/div>\n
Clutch\u2019d her hair:<\/div>\n
\u201cLizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted<\/div>\n
For my sake the fruit forbidden?<\/div>\n
Must your light like mine be hidden,<\/div>\n
Your young life like mine be wasted,<\/div>\n
Undone in mine undoing,<\/div>\n
And ruin\u2019d in my ruin,<\/div>\n
Thirsty, canker\u2019d, goblin-ridden?\u201d\u2014<\/div>\n
She clung about her sister,<\/div>\n
Kiss\u2019d and kiss\u2019d and kiss\u2019d her:<\/div>\n
Tears once again<\/div>\n
Refresh\u2019d her shrunken eyes,<\/div>\n
Dropping like rain<\/div>\n
After long sultry drouth;<\/div>\n
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,<\/div>\n
\n

She kiss\u2019d and kiss\u2019d her with a hungry mouth.<\/p>\n

Her lips began to scorch,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

That juice was wormwood to her tongue,<\/div>\n
She loath\u2019d the feast:<\/div>\n
Writhing as one possess\u2019d she leap\u2019d and sung,<\/div>\n
Rent all her robe, and wrung<\/div>\n
Her hands in lamentable haste,<\/div>\n
And beat her breast.<\/div>\n
Her locks stream\u2019d like the torch<\/div>\n
Borne by a racer at full speed,<\/div>\n
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,<\/div>\n
Or like an eagle when she stems the light<\/div>\n
Straight toward the sun,<\/div>\n
Or like a caged thing freed,<\/div>\n
\n

Or like a flying flag when armies run.<\/p>\n

Swift fire spread through her veins, knock\u2019d at her heart,<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Met the fire smouldering there<\/div>\n
And overbore its lesser flame;<\/div>\n
She gorged on bitterness without a name:<\/div>\n
Ah! fool, to choose such part<\/div>\n
Of soul-consuming care!<\/div>\n
Sense fail\u2019d in the mortal strife:<\/div>\n
Like the watch-tower of a town<\/div>\n
Which an earthquake shatters down,<\/div>\n
Like a lightning-stricken mast,<\/div>\n
Like a wind-uprooted tree<\/div>\n
Spun about,<\/div>\n
Like a foam-topp\u2019d waterspout<\/div>\n
Cast down headlong in the sea,<\/div>\n
She fell at last;<\/div>\n
Pleasure past and anguish past,<\/div>\n
\n

Is it death or is it life?<\/p>\n

Life out of death.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

That night long Lizzie watch\u2019d by her,<\/div>\n
Counted her pulse\u2019s flagging stir,<\/div>\n
Felt for her breath,<\/div>\n
Held water to her lips, and cool\u2019d her face<\/div>\n
With tears and fanning leaves:<\/div>\n
But when the first birds chirp\u2019d about their eaves,<\/div>\n
And early reapers plodded to the place<\/div>\n
Of golden sheaves,<\/div>\n
And dew-wet grass<\/div>\n
Bow\u2019d in the morning winds so brisk to pass,<\/div>\n
And new buds with new day<\/div>\n
Open\u2019d of cup-like lilies on the stream,<\/div>\n
Laura awoke as from a dream,<\/div>\n
Laugh\u2019d in the innocent old way,<\/div>\n
Hugg\u2019d Lizzie but not twice or thrice;<\/div>\n
Her gleaming locks show\u2019d not one thread of grey,<\/div>\n
Her breath was sweet as May<\/div>\n
\n

And light danced in her eyes.<\/p>\n

Days, weeks, months, years<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Afterwards, when both were wives<\/div>\n
With children of their own;<\/div>\n
Their mother-hearts beset with fears,<\/div>\n
Their lives bound up in tender lives;<\/div>\n
Laura would call the little ones<\/div>\n
And tell them of her early prime,<\/div>\n
Those pleasant days long gone<\/div>\n
Of not-returning time:<\/div>\n
Would talk about the haunted glen,<\/div>\n
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,<\/div>\n
Their fruits like honey to the throat<\/div>\n
But poison in the blood;<\/div>\n
(Men sell not such in any town):<\/div>\n
Would tell them how her sister stood<\/div>\n
In deadly peril to do her good,<\/div>\n
And win the fiery antidote:<\/div>\n
Then joining hands to little hands<\/div>\n
Would bid them cling together,<\/div>\n
\u201cFor there is no friend like a sister<\/div>\n
In calm or stormy weather;<\/div>\n
To cheer one on the tedious way,<\/div>\n
To fetch one if one goes astray,<\/div>\n
To lift one if one totters down,<\/div>\n
To strengthen whilst one stands.\u201d<\/div>\n","protected":false},"author":251,"menu_order":6,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":["christina-rossetti"],"pb_section_license":"public-domain"},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[63],"license":[50],"class_list":["post-48","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless","contributor-christina-rossetti","license-public-domain"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/48","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/251"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/48\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":68,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/48\/revisions\/68"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/48\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=48"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=48"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=48"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=48"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}