S18E1: "My Sister's Sleep" by Dante Rosetti

During this season, we thought it appropriate to offer our listeners six poems about family life. The poems selected for this season are quite various in style and manner, and have been chosen for the light they shed on relationships between parents and children, between husbands and wives, brothers and sisters. We hope that these readings will, in their small way, add a measure of comfort and happiness to the lives of our audience during these winter months.

Today's poem is "My Sister's Sleep" by Dante Rosetti. Poem reading begins at timestamp 4:13.

My Sister's Sleep

by Dante Rosetti

She fell asleep on Christmas Eve:

At length the long-ungranted shade

Of weary eyelids overweigh'd

The pain nought else might yet relieve.

 

Our mother, who had lean'd all day

Over the bed from chime to chime,

Then rais'd herself for the first time,

And as she sat her down, did pray.

 

Her little work-table was spread

With work to finish. For the glare

Made by her candle, she had care

To work some distance from the bed.

 

Without, there was a cold moon up,

Of winter radiance sheer and thin;

The hollow halo it was in

Was like an icy crystal cup.

 

Through the small room, with subtle sound

Of flame, by vents the fireshine drove

And redden'd. In its dim alcove

The mirror shed a clearness round.

 

I had been sitting up some nights,

And my tired mind felt weak and blank;

Like a sharp strengthening wine it drank

The stillness and the broken lights.

 

Twelve struck. That sound, by dwindling years

Heard in each hour, crept off; and then

The ruffled silence spread again,

Like water that a pebble stirs.

 

Our mother rose from where she sat:

Her needles, as she laid them down,

Met lightly, and her silken gown

Settled: no other noise than that.

 

"Glory unto the Newly Born!"

So, as said angels, she did say;

Because we were in Christmas Day,

Though it would still be long till morn.

 

Just then in the room over us

There was a pushing back of chairs,

As some who had sat unawares

So late, now heard the hour, and rose.

 

With anxious softly-stepping haste

Our mother went where Margaret lay,

Fearing the sounds o'erhead—should they

Have broken her long watch'd-for rest!

 

She stoop'd an instant, calm, and turn'd;

But suddenly turn'd back again;

And all her features seem'd in pain

With woe, and her eyes gaz'd and yearn'd.

 

For my part, I but hid my face,

And held my breath, and spoke no word:

There was none spoken; but I heard

The silence for a little space.

 

Our mother bow'd herself and wept:

And both my arms fell, and I said,

"God knows I knew that she was dead."

And there, all white, my sister slept.

 

Then kneeling, upon Christmas morn

A little after twelve o'clock

We said, ere the first quarter struck,

"Christ's blessing on the newly born!"